


you’re a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s night

by melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AKA river tries to escape multiple times and twelve is Done with it, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Hate at First Sight, Human AU, Safe House AU, a bit of grief and ptsd-like symptoms, a bit of stargazing, a little violence but not graphic, in which river calls twelve a long list of variations on ‘old man’, they’re stuck in a safe house for a few weeks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme/pseuds/melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme
Summary: They continue trekking in silence, nightfall descending slowly upon them as they inch towards the tiny little shack. There’s a little bridge crossing over the lake and she thinks about stargazing underneath the moonlight - maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.Vastra knocks on the door of the shack in a pattern and it opens almost immediately. The first thing River sees is silvery grey hair, followed by piercing blue eyes and hollow cheeks. The man’s eyebrows are thick and high, giving him a permanent frown and reminding River distinctly of an owl. The man begins to speak, his voice deep and gruff, and River thinks that it quite suits the way he looks.“You’re late.” He states. He doesn’t smile or offer a handshake. “Get in before we get killed.”“Charming.” River says, as she follows Vastra through the door.





	1. just meet me in the middle

**Author's Note:**

> A huge huge thank you to my beta, Cassie, whom I frequently forget to thank for reading over all my stories and making sure I don’t have any mistakes in them. Thanks cassafrass!!!!
> 
> Story title from ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’ by REO Speedwagon.  
> Chapter Title from ‘The Middle’ by Zedd.

The woods are damp and muddy, the symphony of nature’s sounds filling the air and calming River: the wind rifling through the leaves on the trees, the birds singing as they fly past, the mud squelching beneath their boots with each step they take towards their destination   
  
Her escape from Demon’s Run nine days ago had been followed immediately by UNIT assigning her to the safest safe house they could find. She was give the name River Song as an alias and put into the capable hands of her childhood friend and UNIT Agent Vastra Paternoster.    
  
They’ve been walking in the forest for over a week - supplies are starting to run low. Vastra has been insisting that they’re ‘almost there’, but she’s been saying that for the latter half of the trip - River is starting to lose faith that they’ll ever reach the safe house before they run out of food and water.    
  
“How long more?” She asks, not for the first time that day - and certainly not the last, by the way things are looking. She groans, wishing for nothing more than a comfortable bed to rest in. The trip has taken a lot out of her physically - ever since she’d escaped, it was much harder for her to perform normal tasks the way she used to, and a long trek through the forest with nothing but canned foods to eat certainly isn’t helping her malnourishment. In addition to that, a small tent with the hard ground against her back and nothing but her haversack as a pillow isn’t exactly the most comfortable sleeping environment.    
  
Though she doubts a change of environment would do much good for her in terms of sleeping - she finds nothing but horror and nightmares in her dreams and she’s trained herself to stay awake for as long as possible.    
  
“Just a couple of miles more,” Vastra says, only slightly apologetically. Unlike River, she isn’t panting, nor is she clutching her water bottle as tightly. River knows that Vastra has slowed down her pace significantly to accommodate her, but she can’t feel sorry for throwing Vastra off pace - especially after she says, “Had to take a little detour.”   
  
“That’s our  _ fifth _ detour today, Vastra.” River says tiredly, looking at her friend with a mixture of disbelief, exhaustion and a little anger.   
  
“Yes,” Vastra says, unbothered by the annoyance in River's tone. “Just making sure we aren’t followed, Melody. Or would you prefer being tracked down and killed by the Vashta Nerada?”   
  
River huffs, blowing a curl out of her face. “Fine,” she says grudgingly.   
  
They continue in silence for a little while, trekking through the peaceful woods. As they go deeper into the forest, the trees getting thicker and thicker, the air getting cooler, Vastra clears her throat a little awkwardly.   
  
She doesn’t turn to face River as she begins casually, “I just realised I’ve never offered my condolences.”   
  
River remains silent as she follows Vastra’s lead, not liking at all the conversation her friend is starting. The reason why she’d been so relieved to have Vastra as her companion throughout this journey was because she never saw the need to make idle chatter to fill the silence. River trusts Vastra with her life, and she  _ likes _ her too - a combination too rare to her nowadays. More than that, Vastra had never needed any type of chatter. They simply trusted that they had each other’s backs - and one very crucial aspect of their relationship was that they never saw the need to indulge in heart to hearts when they spent time together.   
  
“Vastra,” River sighs, “I do not want to talk about it.”   
  
Vastra stops in her tracks, turning around and holding River by the shoulders. “You are a dear friend, Melody.” She says, and River tenses up quickly, avoiding eye contact with her friend. She can’t remember the last time Vastra was the cause of her feeling uncomfortable - she certainly doesn’t like that her friend is forcing her into a conversation she very explicitly stated she didn’t want to have. Still, Vastra doesn’t let go, instead tightening her grip and gazing very intensely into River’s eyes. As she speaks, her voice holds a tender quality that River has only ever heard once or twice throughout their two decades of friendship, and she steels herself for the tears sure to come. River hasn’t cried since she escaped, too focused on getting to safety to allow thoughts of grief to consume her. “I know it must be killing you inside. You cannot keep shutting yourself out like this. Have you even got a picture of them?”   
  
River doesn’t answer, still determinedly looking away. Vastra stares at her for a moment before sighing and letting go of her.   
  
As she turns around, she continues speaking. “All I’m saying is,” she starts, and River rolls her eyes. Sometimes she just can’t quit. “If I’d lost almost all of my friends  _ and _ Jenny, I’d want to talk about it with someone.”   
  
“I’m not talking about my feelings with you.” River argues. “Besides, you know I don’t have any.”   
  
Vastra rolls her eyes. “You’re not the psychopath you pretend to be, Melody.”   
  
River doesn’t say anything, turning away from her friend. She hasn’t had the time to process the loss, her grief still buried deep in her heart. She can’t talk about anything when she’s barely acknowledged that any of it has happened yet.    
  
“Once I’ve gone mad being trapped in a house alone for months, then we’ll see.” River says finally.   
  
Vastra snaps her head around to face her. “You won’t be alone.”   
  
“Vastra, you better not be telling me that  _ you’re _ staying with me because I  _ will _ take it as my personal mission to drive you crazy- ”   
  
“Don’t be daft,” Vastra says, whipping her head around to face the road again. “UNIT wouldn’t allow me to be cooped up for months, not allowed to see sunlight- ”   
  
“Right, thanks for that lovely reminder.” River says dryly, her heart sinking at the prospect of having absolutely nothing to do but sit around all day until the higher ups at Vashta Nerada are captured and dealt with.    
  
“- and they never would’ve trusted me to keep you sane, anyway.” She says. “The person you’ll be staying with has a long history of dealing with the Vashta Nerada. You’ll get along famously with him  _ if _ you’re willing to give him the chance.”   
  
River purses her lips and mutters, clearly upset, “I do not like him.”   
  
Vastra sighs exasperatedly. “You’re impossible, Melody Pond, has anyone ever told you that?”   
  
“What’s the point of putting me in a safe house if everyone’s going to know where I am?” River asks in frustration.   
  
“There are literally four people, including you, who know where you’re going.” Vastra points out, trying desperately not to roll her eyes at her friend’s proclivity for the dramatic.   
  
“And that’s three people too many,” River says.   
  
“ _ Impossible _ .” Vastra grumbles.    
  
*   
  
_ Melody wakes up, her hair sticky against her face. She can only smell the damp air all around her and sweat, the four walls trapping the stench and making it harder for her to breathe. There aren’t any windows in the room she’s kept in - only a small door with a sliding peephole for the guards to look through. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She’s been here for a week. She hasn’t seen any of her team since they got here. Whenever she musters up the energy to ask about them, the guards repeat her question in high pitched baby voices that grates her nerves. That doesn’t stop her, though.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The third day she asks about her teammates, they took her clothes, leaving her in her undergarments in the cell. It isn’t bad during the day, but she shivers every night when the walls around her trap the cold in. Her knees chafe against the floor when she crawls towards the food they leave just slightly out of reach. On the fourth day, a guard named Manton strikes her three times across the face. She can still feel the cut stinging below her eye, from where his ring scratched her. On the fifth day, she doesn’t get food or water. Though her throat is as dry as a desert and she feels incredibly weak, she doesn’t say a thing.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She stops asking on the sixth day. She leans her back against the wall facing the door and stares blankly at the guard when he tries to provoke her. Apparently, this behaviour is exactly what he wants in a prisoner because she’s rewarded with a bottle of water and a slice of bread before they switch off the lights at night. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She continues her passive behaviour the next day, earning praise from the guard when she doesn’t move a muscle as he brandishes a knife near her throat and chest. She stares up at him, not responding at all. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He chuckles, squatting down to her level. “You know,” he says lowly, his fingers slowly inching towards her cheek. “Despite all your ghastly scars...” his voice trails off and he brushes his thumb over her cheek, where he left a mark a few days ago when he slapped her. “You are remarkably beautiful.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He takes his hand away from her face, and she doesn’t react when he places it on her thigh instead, fingering the hem of her shorts lightly. “Perhaps, you’d be willing to be my...” his fingers stray under the hem, caressing her flesh softly. “Escort?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Melody smiles for the first time in a week. She leans in closely, until they’re just a breath apart, and breathes in the throatiest, most flirtatious voice she can muster, “Only if you live long enough.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He frowns. “What do you mean?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She smirks for a moment, before she plunges the knife into his lungs and watches as he collapses, gasping for breath. “It means that you shouldn’t let my beauty distract you from where your knife is.” She stands shakily, pulling the blade out of his body and wiping it down on his uniform. She crouches down at his side, pulling his face up to face her and looking him in the eye. “Even if I wasn’t already married, you couldn’t pay me to sleep with you.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Before she can even blink, sirens start blasting all around her. Three heavily armed guards burst into the room as she turns, knife at the ready in case anyone starts lashing out at her. Instead, she feels a heavy, painful thud to her head and she collapses, subdued. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ When she wakes up again there are chains on her wrists. She’s shackled to the walls of the room and she can taste blood in her mouth. Her head is throbbing and her vision is blurred, and no amount of squinting can put anything into focus.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She spots a puddle of blood where she’d stabbed Manton and the stench makes bile rise in her throat, but she forces herself to remain calm. She will escape. Eventually.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She slumps back against the wall, chains clacking sharply against each other as she calculates how long it will take to hack out of them. The door opens but she doesn’t acknowledge her visitor, keeping her head down and her eyes on the chain trying to determine what kind of metal it is. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Well, well, well,” a silky voice says, as heels clack against the concrete floor. Melody watches as a pair of feet slowly makes their way towards her, stopping right in front of her. “It’s been a while since I’ve had such a troublesome prisoner, Melody Pond.” A tinkle of laughter floats through the woman’s lips and Melody flinches as if being reminded of a traumatising memory. “It will be such a pleasure having you here.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Melody tilts her head up to look at the woman. Her vision is still blurry but she can make out certain things - red lips, pale skin, and a black eyepatch nestled over the woman’s right eye.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Kill me, if you want,” Melody says carelessly. “Let’s get it over with, shall we?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Now, now,” the Eyepatch Lady tuts, lips curling into a sinister smile, “Where’s the fun in that? No, no - you will die slowly, agonisingly, so much so that you will beg to be dead.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’ve never begged for anything,” Melody says, completely unbothered by the other woman’s threat. “And I don’t plan on starting anytime soon.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What were you and your team doing in the Library?” The Eyepatch Lady asks, ignoring her.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Melody raises an eyebrow defiantly. “Why are you working for the Vashta Nerada?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re not in the position to ask questions.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Then I’m in no position to answer them, either.” Melody answers easily, leaning back against the wall. The woman purses her lips and sneers.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Fine.” She says, turning around. Her boots clack against the concrete as she walks out. “Perhaps all you need is a little persuasion.” _   
  
*   
  
They continue until the sun almost disappears, the orange glow hovering above the trees. River is tired and hungry, her throat dry from dehydration. Vastra has been giving her more than her share of food and water but there still isn’t enough. River feels herself growing weaker with every step she takes.    
  
“Please do not tell me,” River pants, “that you’ve taken another detour, Vastra.”   
  
“What? No, we took our last one about an hour ago.” Vastra says, and sensing the murderous gaze that River has on her, she continues,  “Will you just trust me? We’re almost there.”   
  
“I trust you with many things,” River starts, pursing her lips as Vastra helps her up some small rocks. “But given the fact that you’ve been saying that for the past three  _ days _ \- ”   
  
Vastra interrupts her with a finger pointing ahead of them. Through tree branches, bushes and leaves blocking her vision, River spies a large lake in the distance. A little shack sits on the other side.    
  
River’s eyebrows rise up her forehead and she looks at Vastra in disbelief. “ _ That’s _ where I’m staying for the next few weeks?” She asks.   
  
“Were you expecting a mansion? Or perhaps a five-star hotel?” Vastra asks sarcastically.    
  
“I was  _ expecting _ room to move! Or breathe!” River says, still staring at the shack. “There’s no way I’ll be able to live in there by myself, let alone with someone else!”   
  
“You’ll cope,” Vastra says, completely unbothered by River’s concerns. River rolls her eyes. “I’m more worried about how you’ll handle the company.”   
  
“Right. What’s his name?”   
  
“The Doctor.”   
  
“Come again?”   
  
“The Doctor.”   
  
“I got that,” River sighs, rubbing her temples in frustration. “But Doctor  _ what _ ? What’s his last name?”   
  
“He’s been given an alias, just like you.” Vastra explains. “Whether or not he tells you his real name is his own choice - though I wouldn’t expect him to. He isn’t exactly the type to be open about anything.”   
  
“Good. Neither am I.”   
  
“I know your aversion to staying inside for long periods of time, Melody,” Vastra starts, and River finds herself rolling her eyes again and sighing tiredly. She doesn’t  _ want _ to be given the ‘sit tight and behave’ talk, especially by someone who does the exact opposite for a living. “But  _ please _ do not go around wandering in the woods. Stay close to the Doctor, he’ll keep you safe.”   
  
River doesn’t answer. She can’t see herself living in a tiny shack in the middle of God knows where, shut in with someone she’s supposed to call  _ The Doctor _ , who’s supposed to keep her safe. Just the thought of it makes her head spin even more.   
  
They continue trekking in silence, nightfall descending slowly upon them as they inch towards the tiny little shack. There’s a little bridge crossing over the lake and she thinks about stargazing underneath the moonlight - maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.    
  
Vastra knocks on the door of the shack in a pattern and it opens almost immediately. The first thing River sees is silvery grey hair, followed by piercing blue eyes and hollow cheeks. The man’s eyebrows are thick and high, giving him a permanent frown and reminding River distinctly of an owl. The man begins to speak, his voice deep and gruff, and River thinks that it quite suits the way he looks.   
  
“You’re late.” He states. He doesn’t smile or offer a handshake. “Get in before we get killed.”   
  
“Charming.” River says, as she follows Vastra through the door.   
  
“I’m sorry, Doctor.” Vastra says, as the Doctor shuts the door behind them. “Had to take a couple of detours to make sure we weren’t followed.”   
  
The Doctor grunts in acknowledgement, indicating that they put their bags down by the door. River inspects the space they’ve entered, pursing her lips when she sees no rooms of any sort - not a bathroom in sight, nor a bed. They’re in what appears to be a storage room, full of racks of tools and wires and hardware.    
  
River is about to point out this fact when Vastra shoots her a look, and the Doctor pushes one of the racks out of the way to reveal a trapdoor on the floor, and a ladder leading to a brighter, more spacious room underground.   
  
“Bigger on the inside,” River says, reluctantly impressed.    
  
She climbs down first, looking around to see that the entire place was designed like an apartment. She sees a kitchen, and a long hallway leading to other rooms. The place they’d landed in looks like the main sitting room, with a couch and loveseats. River raises her eyebrows in surprise because the entire apartment looks like it was decorated by a middle-aged lady with a dozen cats.    
  
“Right then,” Vastra says, once all three of them are in the living room. “Introductions. River, this is the Doctor. Doctor, Professor River Song.”   
  
“Professor?” The Doctor repeats, interest piqued. “Of what?”   
  
“Archaeology.” River says.   
  
“Not a real Professor, then.” The Doctor says dismissively.   
  
“Excuse me?” River says coldly.   
  
“Archaeology’s rubbish.” He says matter-of-factly. “Everyone knows that. All you people do is muck about in the dirt all day. Any child could do that, it’s not exactly hard.”   
  
River folds her arms and glares at him. “And what exactly are  _ you _ a doctor of?”   
  
“Everything.” He says simply.   
  
“Not a real Doctor, then.” She says sardonically, not bothered in the slightest at the way he glares at her.   
  
“Right,” says Vastra, after a few moments of tense silence. She looks between the both of them. “This will be fun.”   
  
“Show me my room, old man.” River says, walking down the hallway and ignoring Vastra entirely. “I’ve been trying to get a decent night’s sleep for two weeks.”   
  
“First door on the right.” He says. “ _ My _ right. Stay out of all the doors on the left. Got that?”   
  
“Oh, Doctor.” River sighs. “You shouldn’t ever ask a girl to keep away from a locked door. How am I supposed to resist?”   
  
“I wasn’t asking, Professor.” He says curtly, lips drawn into thin line as he glares at her in warning. “I’m telling you to. Keep out of the doors on the left.”   
  
His tone is harsh and she knows immediately that he isn’t someone to cross. Still, something in the way he warns her away sparks her curiosity and she glances at the doors he told her to stay away from, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.    
  
He’s still glaring at her, daring her to disobey him. His eyes are narrowed and angry, and he would’ve looked intimidating if his messy hair didn’t make him look like a mad scientist.   
  
“I’ll keep out of your space,” River says at last, pushing her bedroom door open. “As long as you keep out of mine.”   
  
“Won’t be a problem, Professor.” He says derisively.   
  
River slams her door shut behind her as the Doctor disappears into his office.    
  
“ _ Impossible _ .” Vastra grumbles again, sighing tiredly as she lugs her bags to the guest room.   
  
*   
  
_ The next time the Eyepatch Lady visits, she has a guard with her. The guard has someone over his shoulder, a sack placed over their head - but Melody knows her team well enough by now to be able to recognise her team immediately. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Ms Evangelista,” she whispers, getting onto her knees as the guard sets her small frame roughly on the floor. “Its okay, it’s me.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Professor,” the girl gasps, her voice muffled by the sack on her head. Even so, Melody can sense the terror in the girl’s voice as she speaks. “Professor, please, I can’t breathe.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Melody tries reaching for her but the chains aren’t long enough and the guard has placed Ms Evangelista just out of reach. She tugs on the chains as hard as she can but they don’t give way, and out of the corner of her eye Melody sees the Eyepatch Lady and the guard watching in amusement as she struggles against her restraints. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What the hell are you doing?” She shouts at them, full of fire and fury as they smirk down at them. “She’ll suffocate!” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “That’s none of our business, Melody Pond.” The woman says, her voice as smooth as silk. Melody grits her teeth and clenches her jaw, swearing to God that when she gets out of these chairs, her heart will be what she’s hunting for next. The woman walks towards the both of them, bending down on one knee and gripping Melody’s neck tightly, pulling her face up to look her in the eye.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Tell me who you’re working for, or watch your friend die.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Ms Evangelista whimpers, her hands grappling at the ropes on her neck, keeping the bag in place over her head. Melody looks at the girl - she doesn’t know her well personally, but she’s a hard worker. She’s eager to learn even if she’s a little slow, and underneath the naivety, she has a kind heart. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “If I tell you who we’re working for,” Melody starts, turning back to the lady. “You won’t let her suffocate to death.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Are you negotiating with me, Melody Pond?” The Eyepatch Lady asks, her grip on Melody’s neck tightening painfully. Melody tries to gulp in some air but she feels her throat tightening. “And if I let you watch her die?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “If she dies in that bag,” Melody forces out, feeling her airway being restricted, “You will never get a word out of me, no matter what you do.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The Eyepatch Lady raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Is that so?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Melody manages to look her in the eye without flinching. “Would you like to find out?”  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She looks at Melody, scrutinising her features thoroughly as she maintains a tight grip on Melody’s neck. Melody doesn’t look away, forcing herself not to let the other woman know exactly how distressed she feels. She doesn’t know how long Ms Evangelista has been stuck with that bag over her head - she has no idea how much time she has left before the poor girl runs out of air to breathe. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Finally, the Eyepatch Lady lets go of Melody’s neck, and she takes in large gulps of air as the guard removes the bag from over Ms Evangelista’s head.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The girl collapses onto the floor once the guard releases her, gasping and coughing, panting heavily as her hand rubs at her neck. Melody sees red marks in the shape of the thick rope they used as Ms Evangelista swallows gratefully, and she flinches as she wonders what would’ve happened if she hadn’t made that deal with that woman. Melody crawls over to her slowly, still trying to reach her but being unable to.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s okay,” she whispers comfortingly, wishing she could do more than just watch as the girl heaves. “It’s okay, Ms Evangelista, you’re alright.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Thank you,” the girl breathes, finally locking eyes with Melody. Ms Evangelista’s eyes shine with tears, her cheeks red and her body trembling violently - she’s too young to be experiencing any of this. “Thank you so much, Professor.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Come here,” Melody whispers to her, but the girl shakes her head. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m not allowed to,” she whispers back, casting a nervous glance at the guard watching them, “I heard the lady - the one with the eyepatch - give him instructions to shoot if we touch.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Melody nods and licks her dry lips. “Okay. Don’t panic. I promise we’ll get home soon, Ms Evangelista.” The girl nods, but Melody can see that she isn’t assured. She’s still shaking from her ordeal, and her hands are clenched tightly into little fists. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m scared, Professor.” She says quietly, and Melody’s heart sinks. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Ms Evangelista reminds her so much of a child, someone to protect with everything she has. She doesn’t deserve any of this - to be kidnapped and tortured and done God knows what to. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I know,” Melody says. “It’s okay to be scared. I promise we’ll be home in no time, okay?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The girl nods again.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Melody Pond.” The Eyepatch Lady says, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “I believe I’m owed something.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s okay,” she whispers to the girl again, when Ms Evangelista freezes up at the sound of the woman’s voice. Melody looks up at her and swallows harshly - a deal is a deal. “We work for UNIT.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You work for the government?” The Eyepatch Lady asks, rolling her eyes. “Of course, meddling pests they are. And?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “And that’s all I owe you.” Melody says, smiling. “That was our deal.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re right,” the woman says, as she looks at the guard and jerks her head towards Ms Evangelista. “And I’ve given what I owe you as well, Melody.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The guard steps up to Ms Evangelista, drawing his gun and training it against her head.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What the hell?” Melody shouts in panic. “We had a deal!” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “The deal is done. Your friend wasn’t suffocated to death in a bag.” the Eyepatch Lady says, shrugging nonchalantly. “We don’t owe each other anything anymore. I’m free to kill her, whichever way I like.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Professor,” Ms Evangelista whimpers, her body trembling even harder as she starts crying harder. The guard cocks his gun and places the barrel on her temple as she shuts her eyes tightly. “Professor, please!” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Don’t you- ” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Bang! _


	2. come back and carry me home; away frome these long, lonely nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She takes a deep breath of fresh air, the calming noises of the forest soothing her, and she settles down at the curve of the bridge, lying on her back and looking up at the starlit sky.
> 
> The stars are a friendly sight. Beautiful and welcoming, a gentle reminder that there are entire worlds out there to explore and discover - but she’s stuck here, trapped in a safe house with a grumpy old man for at least the next two and a half weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little cute banter between the two :)  
> a huge shoutout to everyone who's left kudos and a comment!!! i appreciate them all and i would very much love it if you guys left me more <3
> 
> Chapter title from 'Can't Fight This Feeling' by REO speedwagon

_In the days after Ms Evangelista’s death, Melody doesn’t speak. She doesn’t eat or sleep, and she only drinks when she absolutely needs to. All she can see is the girl shaking in fear, shouting in panic as someone holds a gun to her head and pulls the trigger. She can still smell the blood in the air, can still hear the slow thud of Ms Evangelista’s limp body falling to the floor, dead._ _  
_ _  
_ _Melody is too shocked to move. Everything that happened after she saw her colleague getting killed right in front of her passed by in a blur - she vaguely recalls guards carrying the body out of the room and cleaning up the pool of blood and brain matter scattered all over the floor and wall behind where Ms Evangelista had been shot._ _  
_ _  
_ _The Eyepatch Lady visits daily. She always asks the same question - “Are you ready to talk now, Melody?” She doesn’t receive a reply._ _  
_ _  
_ _Melody doesn’t see the point in answering - they’re all getting ready to murder her anyway. Her teammates, her husband - they’ll all die for no reason if she opens her mouth. She won’t allow that to happen - she won’t allow them to have the upper-hand on her. No one else has to die in vain because of a foolish mistake she made._ _  
_ _  
_ _She knows why the Eyepatch Lady and her guards are targeting her. As team leader, she knows everything about the mission. She’s the one with the task to keep her people safe, the one the rest of the team looks to in times of crisis. They’ve been in a crisis for almost two weeks now - they’re not getting out of it anytime soon._ _  
_ _  
_ _She failed them. They’re tapping into her feelings of guilt and inadequacy to get her to talk - threatening her with harm to her members, letting her know she has their lives in her hand. Only she can save them. And since it was her fault they got captured, she’ll want to make sure they get out of here unharmed and alive._ _  
_ _  
_ _It was true then. But now, after giving them just the tiniest bit of information and still watching an innocent girl brutally shot to death, it certainly isn’t true anymore._ _  
_ _  
_ _They go for Proper Dave next. Their navigator, the one with the eye for hidden rooms and doors, the one among them who can read every type of map easily and understand it, too._ _  
_ _  
_ _She listens as they torture him. She hears scorches and a gas lighting, painful yelps and screams from Proper Dave and delighted cackles from the guards. The Eyepatch Lady watches her every movement, studies every emotion that comes across her face. Melody bows her head down, trying not to reach but she can’t help flinching every time she hears him cry out. She can’t help pursing her lips to keep herself from uttering everything she knows._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You’re stronger than we thought,” the Eyepatch Lady says, after three hours of torturing Proper Dave. “We’ll just have to turn the heat up, then.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _She returns the next morning with a cruel little smirk._ _  
_ _  
_ _“My guards have started a little bonfire,” she says, a perfectly pleasant smile on her face. Melody purses her lips into a thin line as she hears the click of a lighter and the sounds of a huge fire being started. Immediately, a high-pitched shriek pierces her ears and her heart starts pounding in her chest. “Your friend is right in the middle of it.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Proper Dave is being burnt alive. Melody raises her head in horror as the terror-filled screams and cries continue to ring in her ears, and she shuts her eyes in an effort to drown it all out. The shrill ringing of his screams pierce the air._ _  
_ _  
_ _“I give it about fifteen minutes until he’s burnt to a crisp, give or take a few seconds.” She says nonchalantly, looking at her watch. She doesn’t look at all bothered by the screaming, completely comfortable in her environment. She lounges in the plush leather seat she had one of the guards bring in for her, waiting patiently for the screaming to stop - looking almost bored as she does. “You can still save him, Melody.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I wouldn’t be saving anyone if I tell you what you want to know,” Melody croaks, her throat dry. She hasn’t spoken in days and it feels uncomfortable to use her voice after that long. “You won’t get me to talk, no matter what you do.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Fine.” The Eyepatch Lady says curtly. She adjusts herself more comfortably in her chair. “Then we’ll just sit tight and listen to him burn.”_  
  
*  
  
The first few days in the safe house are tense and awkward. The Doctor doesn’t talk a lot, preferring the silence.   
  
River hates it.  
  
River hates the silence. She hates how her mind buzzes nonstop when she tries to think. She wants someone to talk to, but her options are limited. Vastra doesn’t do well with emotions and the Doctor doesn’t do well with - well, anything, really.  
  
After the way their initial meeting went, River is even more reluctant to spend the next few weeks in this house, no matter how nice it turned out to be. The one thing she’d been looking forward to when she finally got here was to be able to sleep. She’d expected herself to nestle in amongst the many cushions and fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow, but instead she lies awake, her eyes wide open as she stares at the high ceiling.   
  
It feels wrong. Sleeping in a bed alone feels utterly wrong. She can’t wrap her head around the fact that she’s lying against a soft, comfy four poster when she’s spent the last few weeks with her back against the cold concrete or the muddy leaves in the forest. She can’t quite believe that she won’t be woken at the crack of dawn by the guards banging violently on the door of her cell, can’t imagine that when tomorrow comes she’ll be able to roam around the hallways, maybe even cook something for herself.   
  
She can’t believe she’s safe. But it’s much worse than that - she can’t believe she’s safe and _alone_. She’d been the only survivor - all of her team killed because she’d refused to trade information, not after Ms Evangelista.  
  
She turns and faces the other side of the bed, her heavy heart thudding against her chest - just another reminder that she’s alive and well. But the people she loves - the _one_ person she loves with all her heart - isn’t. And it’s all her fault.   
  
The bed feels empty without him. Without his goofy smile or his floppy hair, without the way he tugs her close and holds her tight every night. It feels empty without his scent, without his fingers tracing patterns on her back, without his voice whispering in her ear as they chat quietly about anything and everything.   
  
River hates how empty she feels without him.  
  
She sits up in the bed, tears in her eyes and her breathing heavy as she tries to quash the urge to scream. Her vision is blurred as she scrambles off the bed and onto the floor, reaching for her bag and scattering her possessions everywhere - dresses, skirts, shirts, pants, underwear and a few bras - until she finally finds what she’s looking for.  
  
She pulls out a long, blue bow tie out of her bag, grasping at it desperately as flashes of what had been the happiest day of her life plays across her mind - walking into City Hall the day he asked her to marry him, not having a ring but using his tie to do a hand-fastening instead, all while they’re both still in their work attire. He kissed her gently, the way his lips slid over hers making her dizzy with happiness. The way he looked at her after that, when they went out to celebrate - she’ll never forget it. She’ll never forget how full her heart had been that day; how they spent hours upon hours reaffirming their love for each other in the privacy of the house they shared.   
  
She’ll never forget how much she loves him.  
  
As she wraps the cloth around her hand, she feels tears roll down her cheeks and collect on her chin. Their wedding had been spontaneous, adrenaline-rushing and romantic at the same time. It suited them.  
  
She grasps the cloth tightly in her hand, shutting her eyes and swallowing roughly as she allows the memory of her husband to calm her. She remembers the way he looked at her, how his eyes pierced hers the way they always did when he was being serious and sincere. She remembers the way he said his vows, how he’d smiled softly as a tender smile spread across his face as he said, “And I promise to love you, always and completely.”  
  
She feels her heartbeat slow gradually, her breathing evening out as she clutches the bow tie with a white-knuckled grip. She should’ve known that even with her husband gone, he’ll still be saving her. That man.  
  
She wipes the tears from her eyes, standing up shakily and sniffing softly. She can’t sleep in a bed tonight. She won’t be able to - at least for now. She spots a chair in the corner of the room, padding over to it quickly and adjusting its position so it faces the wall instead of the bed. She settles herself down and makes herself comfortable, falling asleep almost immediately.   
  
When she wakes up the next morning, Vastra is sitting on her bed, fully dressed. River very nearly has a heart attack but Vastra puts her hands up in surrender, eyes wide as she smiles guiltily.   
  
“I should’ve foreseen that,” Vastra says as River tries to slow her heartbeat down again. “Why aren’t you sleeping on the bed?”  
  
“I was... reading.” River says, thinking quickly, as Vastra raises an eyebrow, an expression of disbelief quickly taking over her face. “And I just fell asleep on the chair, I guess.”  
  
“You were reading?” Vastra repeats dubiously. River shrugs. “And what exactly were you reading? I don’t see any books in your chair or on the floor.”  
  
River doesn’t answer. Instead she glares at her friend and asks, “Why are you in my room?” She looks around, eyes narrowed. “Did you clean up in here?”  
  
Everything she’d thrown on the bed and floor last night had disappeared. The room looks untouched.  
  
“I thought you’d appreciate if the Doctor doesn’t see your brassieres lying around when he comes in with your breakfast.” Vastra says, leaning against the headboard.   
  
“I thought we agreed to stay out of each other’s space?” River says. “And since when did he become my butler?”  
  
Vastra rolls her eyes. “You’re being impossible, River.”  
  
River only barely registers that this is the first time Vastra has directly addressed her with her given alias. “Just open the door when he knocks, accept the food and thank him. He doesn’t have to stay here with you.”  
  
“I’m certainly not inviting him to,” River snorts, and Vastra sighs, getting off the bed and straightening her running shorts as though it’s a pantsuit.   
  
“I just came in to tell you that I’ll be going,” she says. She bends and picks up some bags that River hadn’t noticed before, too startled by Vastra’s appearance. “We already have an operation in place to catch the remaining members of the Vashta Nerada. I’ll have to leave soon if I’m going to be on time.”  
  
“What operation is it?” River asks, frowning in interest.  
  
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Vastra says, zipping up her bag. “Just trust that we’ll do our job, River. With any luck, you’ll be able to go back in three weeks.”  
  
River perks up at that. “Three weeks?” She repeats.  
  
“Yes.” She confirms. “I shall be coming back around that time to give you both an update.”  
  
River nods. “Goodbye, Vastra.”  
  
Vastra gives her a shadow of a smile. “Take care of yourself. And _behave_ , River. I will know if you haven’t been.”  
  
River remains silent. Vastra raises her eyebrows expectantly at her, her hand on the door knob as she waits for an answer. Sighing in annoyance, River nods grudgingly.  
  
“Good.” Vastra says, satisfied.   
  
She disappears behind the door.   
  
*  
  
Her days aren’t much different to her first night in the safe house. She spends almost all her time in her room, only going out once or twice to refill the pitcher of water she keeps on her nightstand. She reads the books her shelves are stored with, but they’re all teenage romance books. She doubts the Doctor has ever laid eyes on anything remotely resembling a romance - so how exactly did these books get here? Whose room was it?  
  
The questions eat at her, a mystery she desperately wants to solve. Ah, mystery - now there’s a genre she definitely loves. She debates asking the Doctor about it, but ultimately decides against it. They haven’t spoken to each other at all since their first meeting, when they agreed that they should keep out of each other’s space. She still doesn’t know if she regrets that agreement or not.   
  
The only contact she has with him is when he knocks on her door to signal that her food is ready for her. He does this three times a day - he knocks on her door, and she waits for the sound of his receding footsteps to fade away before she opens her door to collect the plate of food he left.   
  
To her great surprise, he’s an amazing cook. She never expected that of him, but by the first two days her stomach is easily the most content part of her, and she looks forward to meal times each day, often polishing her meal up in under ten minutes.  
  
When she’s done, she leaves the plates and utensils in front of the door. She does this for the first three days, but on the fourth day, she finds a note stuck to the side of the plate carrying sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs: _clean your own damn dishes, ‘Professor’ Song. P.S. Archaeology’s still rubbish._ _  
_ _  
_Flaring her nostrils in annoyance - really, was that additional note necessary? - she scarfs down her breakfast and tiptoes out the room, straining her ears to listen for the sound of his footsteps. Once she’s absolutely sure that he’s still in his office, where he apparently spends most of his day, she rushes to the sink and washes her dishes quickly. When she finishes, she wipes her hands down on the towel and takes her time to really examine the kitchen. She hasn’t really gotten used to having a nice, fancy kitchen where she lives - her husband couldn’t be trusted with eating utensils, let alone a knife, and she never was much of a cook either. They ate most meals in the cafeteria of the university where they both taught at, or ordered takeout when they were in the mood for it.  
  
She sighs as she feels the ache in her heart multiply - it’s always present, a constant since she arrived here, but every time she thinks of him, of the life they used to share with each other, the heartache becomes more apparent. She can’t think about her husband without her eyes filling up with tears, or her chest constricting painfully.   
  
She reminds herself that she does enough of her crying at night. It’s more than enough, the crying she does in the comfort of her own presence, the bow tie wrapped around her right hand. Wiping tears from her eyes quickly - God forbid the Doctor sees her like this - she turns and spots a post-it notepad and a pen on the counter, where he apparently had left it.  
  
She feels a smile tugging at her lips as she picks the pad up and writes a quick note. She looks carefully, sticking the note onto his door before disappearing behind her bedroom door.   
  
_Ever heard of manners, old man? P.S. Still not a real Doctor._   
  
And thus it begins.   
  
Their own unorthodox way of communicating, sticking notes to plates and doors. It feels a little childish, like they’re passing notes in class without the teacher knowing, but it works. They’re talking without having to physically be in the same rooms with one another, and that’s just fine by River.  
  
At lunch, she sees another note stuck to her plate. This one reads: _Having manners would imply that I’m polite. P.S. Still can’t believe you willingly paid to study archaeology._ _  
_ _  
_River rolls her eyes. When she leaves her next note, she makes sure he knows she’s already replied by knocking on his door and hurrying back to her room.  
  
 _Haven’t you heard of polite society, Doctor? P.S. At least I have an actual degree. Can’t say the same for you._  
  
 _Haven’t been part of any society in two and a half decades. P.S. I do have an actual degree - in something useful, no less._   
  
_Certainly looks that way, old man. P.S. A degree in what, exactly?_ _  
_  
The next one comes just as she’s getting ready for bed. She hears three knocks in quick succession as she’s throwing on her pyjamas, and she takes her time adjusting her clothes before opening the door. She sees his familiar scrawl on the yellow post-it and smiles as she unsticks it from her door, reading it quickly.  
  
 __Ever heard of manners, Professor? P.S. Physics.  
  
The smile on her face vanishes the moment she reads the last word. Physics. Of course he’s a physicist. All physicists are prats - her husband included.   
  
She sees the notepad and pen sitting on the kitchen counter when she pokes her head out the door, still grasping the note in her hand - she had spent all day writing notes to this man - this stranger, and it terrifies her that this man she hasn’t even had a proper conversation with can distract her so easily from the loss of her husband.   
  
It’s nightfall again, but she can’t stay. She can’t mope around in her bedroom - she needs to feel the chill of the wind on her face and the sound of leaves crunching under her feet. She needs to get out of this house for a while, just to sort out her thoughts.  
  
Abandoning the notepad, she quietly treads to the trapdoor, pulling the ladder down slowly and climbing carefully through the hole. The door leading outside is locked, but she doesn’t need the key - she pulls a bobby pin out from her hair and picks the lock easily, grinning slightly when she hears a satisfying click and the door gives way. She shuts the door carefully behind her and makes her way towards the bridge, carefully avoiding some sharp rocks on the ground.  
  
She takes a deep breath of fresh air, the calming noises of the forest soothing her, and she settles down at the curve of the bridge, lying on her back and looking up at the starlit sky.  
  
The stars are a friendly sight. Beautiful and welcoming, a gentle reminder that there are entire worlds out there to explore and discover - but she’s stuck here, trapped in a safe house with a grumpy old man for at least the next two and a half weeks.  
  
Sighing tiredly, she reaches inside her pocket and pulls the bow tie out, wrapping it around her right hand. It’s one of the only things left in the world that can comfort her, something she does when she feels so alone in the middle of the forest. It makes her feel safe and protected, makes the grief that’s deeply rooted in her heart just a little easier to deal with. He feels closer to her somehow, with the bow tie wrapped around her hand. He feels within reach.  
  
But the world around her is too silent. She looks around and imagines what it would feel like to have her husband here with her - he definitely would be stargazing with her now. He would smile softly and tuck her into his side, pointing out constellations and making up some of them just to make her laugh. She’d lay her hand on his chest and snuggle into him as they whisper to each other.   
  
Tears spring to her eyes the way they always do around this time of the night. She almost wishes that she was back inside the safe house, passing notes with snarky remarks to the Doctor. She almost wishes for something to distract her again from the pain of missing her husband so desperately.   
  
But she needs it. She needs to miss him, to mourn him, to allow all the heartache she feels from losing him to wash over her. She needs to feel everything now to be able to think about him without crying or feeling sad. He deserves that much.  
  
So she doesn’t go back. She looks up at the stars and brings her right hand to her lips, kissing the cloth gently as tears finally escape her eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, my love.” She whispers shakily, hoping he can hear her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you enjoyed that!


	3. we don’t have to rush when you’re alone with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who’s John?”
> 
> River almost screams, but instead she stands and swivels, her hand reaching for the gun in her boot and training it on the intruder. 
> 
> The Doctor stands with his hands in the air, his eyes comically wide as he stares in the barrel of the gun. “It’s just me! Will you put that thing down?” He hisses, and as River purses her lips and lowers her weapon he continues, a little derisively, “Since when did archaeologists carry weapons? You’re not Indiana Jones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! First, major major thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter and left kudos so far! Second, I have very important news at the end of the chapter so stay tuned!

It’s been a week since their little note-passing ritual began. They still haven’t physically said a word to each other but it becomes less and less awkward to pass by the halls and smile at each other. He still thinks she’s impossible and she still thinks he’s insufferable, but the air around them is much less tense than it was when she first arrived.   
  
Since then, she’s learnt a lot about him - that his doctorate in Physics is just one on a long list of accomplishments he’s made by the age of twenty-five. He’s considered the most talented Physician in UNIT, and he went into hiding three decades ago for the exact same reason she’s in hiding now - the Vashta Nerada were after him.  
  
_Why didn’t Vastra tell you any of this?_ He wrote in the last note she received.   
  
_She said any information I wanted to know about you had to be willingly shared on your terms,_ River writes, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she does. She hesitates for a moment before she adds, _P.S, anything else you want to share with me?_ _  
_  
She sends the note his way and starts to get ready for bed, throwing on a jacket over her thin pyjamas. She only has one arm in the sleeve of her jacket when a knock sounds, and she raises her eyebrows in surprise. That’s the quickest reply she’s gotten from him - which must mean that his answer is short as well.  
  
She’s proven right when she reads his note, his untidy scrawl against the yellow post-it mocking her.   
  
_Nice try, Song._   
  
River can’t help rolling her eyes a little fondly. What a grumpy old man.   
  
She tucks the note into her pocket and slips out the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. It’s normal for her now, to sneak out in the middle of the night to watch the stars light up the sky. It’s peaceful and calming, and she doesn’t feel trapped in painful grief when she breathes in the smell of wet grass.   
  
Here, in the dark and quiet night, she’s free to miss her friends. She’s free to think about them and cry about them, to apologise to them because she never thought she’d be alive. She never thought she’d be saved.   
  
She knows her husband would never have allowed her to fixate on this. He would’ve told her that she couldn’t have predicted what would happen there, at Demon’s Run. He would’ve said that she’s alive and she shouldn’t waste one moment of it wishing she’d found some way to save the dead.  
  
“I miss you so much, John.” She whispers, her hand in her pocket and lightly fingering the cloth inside.   
  
“Who’s John?”  
  
River almost screams, but instead she stands and swivels, her hand reaching for the gun in her boot and training it on the intruder.   
  
The Doctor stands with his hands in the air, his eyes comically wide as he stares in the barrel of the gun. “It’s just me! Will you put that thing down?” He hisses, and as River purses her lips and lowers her weapon he continues, a little derisively, “Since when did archaeologists carry weapons? You’re not Indiana Jones.”  
  
“I’m surprised you’ve seen that movie,” she says, tucking her gun back inside her boot and straightening up again, folding her arms. “Do they have a version in black and white that I missed out on?”  
  
Glaring, he says stonily, “I don’t like people with guns.”  
  
“I don’t like people who sneak up on me.” She glares back.   
  
“Do you even know what to do with that?”  
  
River narrows her eyes at him. “Yes I do, old man.” Seeing where this is going, the Doctor opens his mouth to speak but River beats him to it. “Would it surprise you to know that women are allowed to vote now? We’re also allowed to have our own jobs and wear knee-length dresses in public.”  
  
“I just _meant_ \- ” he grits his teeth in annoyance and River watches, satisfied. “Are you trained?”  
  
“Of course I am. Did you really think I’d just shoot this about?” River says, rolling her eyes as she settles back down on the bridge. “I’m not insane.”  
  
The Doctor watches with a little frown on his face as she looks up at the stars. “Debatable.” He mutters.  
  
“I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.” River says, not taking her eyes off the sky.   
  
“Why are you out here?” He asks, frowning down at her.   
  
River sighs. “Can’t sleep,” she mumbles.  
  
It’s true. Her memories haunt her in her dreams - visions of her teammates, her husband, the guards and that horrible cell she was kept in - they either keep her awake at night or startle her into consciousness as she gasps for air, tears streaming down her face.   
  
“Maybe you should try lying in bed,” he suggests, just a tiny hint of sarcasm in his tone.  
  
She glares up at him. “Go to sleep, old man. It’s past your bedtime.”  
  
“In case you’ve forgotten, _Professor_ , I’m in charge of your safety.” He says, still waiting for her to get up. “I can’t leave you here and have you get killed - Vastra threatened to disembowel me.”  
  
“Then prepare yourself.” She says, unbothered.  
  
The Doctor purses his lips and glares at her for a few moments before turning and heading back towards the safe house. River sighs in relief and shuts her eyes, breathing deeply and trying to regain the peaceful momentum she had before she was so rudely interrupted by the grumpy old man.  
  
It works - but only for a while. She hears rude and loud footsteps a few minutes later and the Doctor’s gruff voice muttering under his breath, and she rolls her eyes, her nerves grated - why can’t he just leave her alone?  
  
“Must you _insist_ on being annoying?” She snaps, glaring as he settles himself at her side.  
  
He stares at her incredulously. “Must _you_ insist on being so difficult?” He shoots back. “Can’t even follow _one_ bloody basic rule and she calls _me_ the annoying one.”  
  
“I don’t need company, nor do I want it,” she mutters steely. “Not your company, anyway.”  
  
“Well, too bloody bad for you then,” he says carelessly. “I just saved your arse from getting an earful from Agent Vastra, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”  
  
“Fine.” Says River.  
  
“Fine.” Says the Doctor, and they both stare up at the starlit sky in silence.   
  
*  
  
_The next time, they don’t wait a week like they did with Proper Dave. After listening to him burn to death, the Eyepatch Lady comes in the next day with two guards, one carrying a knife and a chair and the other carrying Other Dave over his shoulder. Melody watches quietly as they set to work, typing ropes around his wrists and his legs and dumping him roughly into the chair before whipping the sack off his head._ _  
__  
__“Professor,” he gasps, panting and rushing to speak as the guards approach him with a gag. “It’s okay, don’t tell - mmmm!”_ _  
__  
__Melody swallows when the blade of the knife catches the light as the guard approaches him. One of her archaeologists - smart, with his own bright future ahead of him. If he doesn’t get killed tonight_ _  
__  
__“Each time you refuse to answer, your little pet here - ” Melody glares at the Eyepatch Lady as she circles Other Dave like a cold-hearted predator. “ - loses an organ. Starting with his kidneys.”_ _  
__  
__The guard places the tip of the knife just so at his left kidney. To his credit, Other Dave doesn’t so much as flinch. He glares back at the guard, fire in his eyes, and Melody can tell - he’s prepared to die._ _  
__  
__“What was your mission in the Library?” The Eyepatch Lady asks, looking at Melody with a challenging gaze._ _  
__  
__Melody looks straight at Other Dave. He betrays no fear, only pure bravery as he stares down the guards. He catches Melody’s eye and shakes his head almost imperceptibly from side to side. She raises her eyebrows at him, silently asking if he’s sure about it - if he’s sure he can take it. He nods once and drops his chin to his chest._ _  
__  
__Melody stays silent. The Eyepatch Lady nods at the guards; a swift stab to Other Dave’s left kidney. The guard yanks the knife back out as Other Dave gasps and groans._ _  
__  
__His thin shirt is rapidly being soaked by blood but no one else bats an eyelash. Melody bites her tongue from gasping or crying out but she can’t stop her eyes from tearing up as she watches Other Dave struggle to move and deal with the pain of being stabbed and losing a kidney. The patch of blood on his shirt is growing bigger and darker and she thinks it might be faster for him to bleed out than for them to strike his organs out one by one._ _  
__  
__“I’ll ask you again, Melody Pond,” the Eyepatch Lady spits her name out like it’s a curse. “What was your mission in the Library?”_ _  
__  
__“I’m not answering any of your damn questions so you might as well kill us both.” Melody snaps, bowing her head again as the guard strikes Other Dave’s right kidney._ _  
__  
__The bottom half of his shirt is now soaked in blood, the dark patch growing larger by the second. One last blow could be fatal for him._ _  
__  
__Other Dave remains slumped over, gasping heavily as his hands struggle against their restraints behind him. Melody feels tears escaping her eyes and her lips starting to tremble but she keeps herself calm, breathing in and out slowly and regulating her breath._ _  
__  
__“Why is UNIT interested in the Vashta Nerada?” The Eyepatch Lady asks, finally losing her cool attitude. Melody doesn’t flinch as she bites out her question and glares at her._ _  
__  
__“Why can’t you understand English?” Melody retorts, glaring right back at her even as tears stream down her cheeks. “I’m not saying anything.”_ _  
__  
__The Eyepatch Lady rushes forward and grabs Melody by the neck, choking her hard but not hard enough. “Kill him.” She says to the guards through gritted teeth, squeezing Melody rougher. “You’re going to watch exactly when the light fades out of his eyes.”_ _  
__  
__But she doesn’t get to._ _  
__  
__The guard stabs both Other Dave’s lungs, and instead Melody sees the exact moment his chest fills with his own blood. He starts coughing it up violently, spraying red everywhere in his vicinity and the last thing Melody sees in his eyes is sheer panic before he slumps forward on his chair._ _  
__  
__And he remains still._  
  
*  
  
“River! _River_ , wake up!”  
  
She startles awake, her heart beating fast as her eyes adjust themselves to the darkness. She’s still outside, she finds - the stars are still shining brightly above them. The Doctor looks at her, something she can’t quite identify coming across his face as he examines her features.   
  
“Why did you wake me up?” She asks, finally catching her breath.  
  
“You kept moaning,” he tells her. When she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks, he continues, “You were clawing at my arm in your sleep, River.”  
  
Fighting the urge to blush and only vaguely aware of the fact that this is the first time he’s calling her by her name and not her title, her smirk widens and she says throatily, “I do like it a little rough.”  
  
To her utter annoyance, the Doctor doesn’t so much as look away. He maintains eye contact, and it almost feels like he’s challenging her.   
  
“Would you like,” he hesitates, the lines around his eyes screwing up, “to talk about your dream?”  
  
“No.” River says immediately, just a little coldly.  
  
The Doctor sighs. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a croissant, already cold. He hands it to her.  
  
“I was sending you supper when I saw that the trapdoor was open.” He explains, as she takes the croissant from him with little hesitation. “Vastra told me you would do something like this, and she was right.”  
  
River says nothing as she nibbles on her croissant, staring down at her pastry. Her curls whip around her face in the wind but she does nothing to stop it, too familiar with her hair by now to know that nothing short of chopping it all off will get it to behave.  
  
“You haven’t told me anything about you,” he says, a little tentatively. “We’re going to spend at least two weeks more in this safe house together.”  
  
River still doesn’t answer, chewing thoughtfully. After a few moments of silence, she swallows and turns to him, asking plainly, “Why are the Vashta Nerada after you?”  
  
The Doctor scoffs. “I’m not answering that question until you answer one of mine.”  
  
“Fine.” River says grudgingly, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Why did you learn how to shoot a gun?”  
  
“Because I had to. Now answer my question.” She says quickly. The Doctor raises an eyebrow at her expectantly and she sighs, her shoulders sagging a little. “I’m a private detective.”  
  
“I thought you were an archaeologist.” He says, surprised.  
  
“See now, women are allowed to have more than one career,” she starts, teasing him further. He rolls his eyes.   
  
“Yes, yes, I get it.” He says impatiently, waving his hand as she laughs at him. “Any other occupations I should know about?”  
  
“I’m an author, too.” She says, letting out a chuckle at the way his eyes widen. He seems almost impressed by her. Before he can even open his mouth to comment on that though, she tuts, “Nope. You’ve already had two questions, old man; it’s my turn now.”  
  
“No Vashta Nerada questions.” He says firmly. She opens her mouth furiously to protest but he cuts her off by snatching her croissant and holding it away from her. “No Vashta Nerada questions, or no questions at all.”  
  
“Fine.” She huffs. “Give me my croissant back.”  
  
He hands it back to her and she tears a chunk off with her teeth, chewing angrily as he watches in amusement.   
  
“Ever been married?” She asks, looking pointedly at his bare left ring finger.  
  
He shrugs. “No one’s good enough.” He says simply.  
  
River scoffs. “For an old man, you’ve got very high standards.”  
  
“Watch it, Professor,” he warns as she laughs heartily, throwing her head back. “I’ll poison your breakfast tomorrow, just you wait.”  
  
She registers the use of her title again and can’t explain why she feels disappointed. She quite likes how he says her name in the Scottish growl of his, the way he rolls the r’s and elongates the last syllable.   
  
She quite likes her alias - a play on her actual name, she knows. River Song sounds like a superhero. A sexy, feisty, confident vixen with questionable morals and a hunger for trouble. She thinks she might keep it after this is all over.  
  
“What’s your name?” She asks. The Doctor has been pondering on what to ask her for quite some time and she’s getting impatient.   
  
“I’m not telling you that.” He says. “Besides, it’s my turn to ask a question.”  
  
“Oh, come on.” River says, just a hint of a plea in her voice. “You can call me River, at least that’s an actual name. Yours is just ‘ _The Doctor’_. It’s a bloody mouthful.”  
  
“Yours isn’t your real name either.” He points out. “And who said you have to call me ‘Doctor’? You can call me ‘The’. I’ve never said no to that.”  
  
She hits his shoulder hard, even though her cheeks betray her amusement. “I hate you.”  
  
“No you don’t,” he says, smiling at her. She smiles back, finishing the last bit of her croissant as she does.   
  
He’s good company. She hadn’t expected that from him. Well, she hadn’t expected much of him, that was sure, but this - this is nice. A pleasant surprise. A pleasant friend.  
  
He’s easy to laugh with - easy to tease and easy to talk to. Not quite what Vastra had said he would be, but then again, Vastra isn’t really the master of reading people.  
  
“The sun will be rising in a few hours,” he says to her softly, and she snaps back into focus. “We should head back inside.”  
  
She contemplates arguing with him just for the sake of it, but her eyes are starting to droop and the cold air is starting to get to her, so she nods as he helps her up.  
  
He frowns when he touches her hand. “You’re cold,” he states, touching her fingers again. “Can you last until the shack?”  
  
“I’m fine,” she says, waving a hand at him dismissively.  
  
“You’re trembling,” he says, frowning deeper. He looks as if he has no idea what to do, and River loves seeing him so frazzled to help her. Especially when the solution is right in front of him - he’s wearing a jacket. “I know - body warmth.”  
  
He comes up behind her and places his hands delicately at her waist, pulling her back and pressing her against his front. She yelps a little when he pulls her a little roughly than intended, but she shakes her head as he mutters a quick apology in her ear. Just by instinct, she adjusts herself against his thin frame as he folds her into his arms. Feeling rather confused and her heart beating a mile a minute, she bites her lip and turns her neck to look at him.   
  
“What are you doing, Doctor?” She asks, just a little bewilderedly.  
  
“I’m keeping you warm,” he says, as if it’s obvious. His arms are still around her midriff, careful not to stray up or down her torso. “I’m sure if we coordinate our steps, we’ll be able to reach the safe house in no time.”  
  
“But Doctor, we can just- ” she starts, but he starts muttering ‘right, left, right, left’ under his breath, his feet following. She sighs and gives up, partly because this is the most hilarious thing to happen to her in ages, and the other part of her - the grudgingly bigger part of her - likes how it feels to be wrapped in his arms. She likes how warm and cosy he feels and how nice he smells - like coffee beans and butter pastries - and she likes that despite their childish little arguments, he’s doing whatever he can to try and keep her warm.   
  
She finds that the gesture makes her heart fill with warmth, and as they waddle their way back to the safe house she thinks maybe being near to him isn’t such a good idea - not while she’s still grieving. Not when barely two months has passed since her husband and her friends were murdered.  
  
“Is this okay?” He whispers in her ear as their feet finally finds rhythm, syncing their steps neatly.  
  
His breath on her neck makes her cheeks redden and her pulse quicken just a tiny bit, and she frowns to herself. She can’t really be attracted to _him_ of all people, can she?  
  
She swallows a little and nods, flushed. She doesn’t like that he’s making her feel this way. As he unlocks the front door, he pulls her tighter against his back to prevent her from stumbling into the shack, and she feels, for the first time since her escape, safe.  
  
He pushes open the door and she rushes in, desperate to get away from him - from all the confusion she’s feeling. She trips over something but as she falls she feels two strong arms catching her around her waist, steadying her balance.  
  
“Watch your step there, River.” he says quietly, looking down at her and frowning.  
  
“Right.” she says, clearing her throat. “Uh - thank you, Doctor.”  
  
He nods, but he still doesn’t let go of her, his fingertips pressing into her waist. She can feel the pads of his fingers burning themselves onto her skin through the thin material of her pyjamas and her breath almost catches but she stops herself, placing one hand over each of his.  
  
“You can let go now, Doctor.” she tells him quietly, looking up at him.   
  
He’s staring at her intensely, his gaze boring into her eyes. She hasn’t really had the opportunity to study his face before - now that she does, she finds that she quite likes it. Underneath the silvery-grey mad scientist hair he has, sits a face full of expression. There are lines and wrinkles and his skin sags just slightly over his cheeks but she thinks it suits his grumpy facade. And his eyes - those eyes are easily the most beautiful part of him. A deep blue, boring into her soul like he can already see all her deepest, darkest secrets - and she’ll trust him with it. Somehow, she knows she can.  
  
“Yes,” he says finally, letting her go.  
  
He smiles - a soft smile, a genuine one - and he leans in a little, pressing his lips against her cheek. The slight brush against her skin makes her close her eyes just momentarily, and she feels her heart stop altogether until he pulls away.  
  
“Goodnight, River.” He whispers.  
  
She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to her lips like he wants to press his lips there, too. She almost wishes he would - because with that slightest bit of contact against her cheek she feels all her confusion flutter away, and all she feels is warmth.  
  
“Goodnight, Doctor.” She says, feeling herself smile back at him.   
  
She makes her way to the trapdoor and is just about to climb though it when the Doctor’s voice stops her.  
  
“I still have one question.” He says, frowning - not in anger, but as if he’s just remembered something. “Who’s John?”  
  
River swallows, feeling the smile slip off her face slowly like a melted mask. She looks down at her hands clenched tightly at her sides and tries to relax her posture - he doesn’t know. The Doctor doesn’t know.  
  
But she does.  
  
She looks back up at him, at his curious gaze, and manages a small, sad smile.  
  
“Goodnight, Doctor.” She says again, climbing down the ladder.  
  
This time, he doesn’t call her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I have really really important news regarding me writing fic from now on that’s honestly really very long and detailed so please visit my tumblr account here to read more about it and find out more about what i’m gonna be doing.


	4. you’re the light in my deepest, darkest hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if there’s anyone reading this story anymore... if there are, hi!! Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)
> 
> Chapter title from ‘How Deep Is Your Love’ by the Bee Gees (which is the literal melodic embodiment of the Doctor and River’s love fight me on this)

She wakes up the next day with a lighter heart and an inexplicable warmth in her chest. She spends her morning thinking about yesterday - about the kiss that the Doctor had planted on her cheek. Had it been a gesture of friendliness between them? Was she reading too much into the way he lingered by her side before bidding her goodnight? Or had it been a suggestion - the start of pursuing something more than just a friendship?   
  
The Doctor is a hard man to read. River has had experience with many different types of men but there’s just something about him -  something that makes her desire to  _ know _ more about him, even if she puts on a show of being reluctant to do so. He’s a mystery - and  _ oh _ , does River love a good mystery. Especially with all this time on her hands.    
  
But even so, every time she thinks about him, there’s a voice that whispers in her ear:  _ stay away _ . And maybe it’s the part of her that’s still grieving for John, but it always comes down to that for her.    
  
John was the only serious relationship she’s ever had in her life. Despite the age gap, they made each other happy. But even after they got married, people would look at them either in disapproval or in confusion - as if to say,  _ how on Earth could they ever be together? _ _   
_   
Well, they weren’t. Not to them, at least. To them, their relationship was out of this world. It was stronger than gravity, than any force that could keep them apart. Theirs was deeper than the ocean and stronger than its currents. Their bond was the air they breathed, the secrets they shared, the way they held each other through it all.    
  
They were everything - everything in the universe.    
  
Even after a decade of defending their relationship, people still questioned it. They couldn’t understand how people with seemingly nothing in common could ever be together - she’d even listened to them once. But she never did again.   
  
The thing is, it always came down to John or something else. John or a rumour. John or a promotion. John or the vile gossip-mongers in the Law Department. She always chose John. And he always chose her, too.   
  
Because that’s what their love was.   
  
But John isn’t here anymore. And though his absence leaves a gaping hole in her life and her chest, there isn’t anything she would do differently. She’d go through losing him in every single life if it meant having a chance to be with him.   
  
But now, here’s the Doctor. Besides their occupations, he’s quite different from John. He’s Scottish, for one. He grunts and groans and he doesn’t talk much. He can cook. He’s an annoying prat, of course - all men are. He’s definitely at least a few years older than her - John had been a decade younger than River.   
  
He’s  _ different _ , but he’s invoking so many familiar emotions from River. Their banter is something else entirely - if she didn’t know better, she would say it’s his way of flirting. She quite likes it.    
  
She likes his growl and his voice and his  _ Scottishness _ , and how ridiculous he looks prancing about the safe house fully dressed and looking like a disgraced street magician. She likes his deadpan jokes and his sarcasm and his complete intolerance for archaeology.   
  
She likes  _ him _ .   
  
Which is a big problem now for her. She wakes up early in the morning and thinks of the Doctor’s lips touching her cheek lightly, and she reluctantly feels her cheeks turn red - because she’s almost in her fifties and she isn’t a teenager anymore.    
  
And then the guilt would settle inside her. Bone-deep guilt that makes her want to claw at her heart and thump her head against some metal really hard. Because it’s only been a month and a half since she lost John. She’s been with him for almost twelve years and in just one and a half months - forty-eight days - she’s already feeling butterflies at someone else’s touch. And she hates herself for it.   
  
The guilt settles itself in the pit of her stomach like the weight of a thousand boulders and that’s when she hears it. Just a little whisper in the back of her mind:  _ stay away from the Doctor. _   
  
She lies in bed, the room still dark and the air still cold. Even after he’s gone, she has to choose between John and something else. Someone else.   
  
John or the Doctor?   
  
*   
  
She lies awake in bed for the next few hours, letting the guilt fade away slowly as the sun rises. The bedroom is still dark - one of the many inconveniences of living underground - but she watches the hands on the clock move, the rhythmic movement calming the chaos in her mind.    
  
She watches as the clock strikes ten and she waits for the telltale footsteps against the wooden floor, approaching her bedroom. The Doctor is never late when it comes to mealtimes.    
  
Three knocks on the door and she gets up slowly, pulling on her shower robe and putting on her fluffy slippers. Three more knocks sound as she’s tying a knot at the front of her robe and she rolls her eyes, huffing as the knocking continues, more persistently this time.   
  
“What took you so long? The food’s getting cold,” the Doctor says as soon as she opens the door, looking impatient.    
  
“Well, good morning to you as well,” she says sardonically. “I was getting dressed. Where’s my food?”   
  
She looks down at the floor, where a breakfast tray should be sitting but she sees only the Doctor’s shoes.    
  
“We’re eating breakfast in the sitting room today,” he tells her.    
  
“Oh?” She pokes her head out the door and she sees mountains of food laid out on the coffee table - for some reason, there isn’t a dining table in this house. “Well in that case, let me put on some proper clothes.”   
  
“Why?” he asks, looking her up and down - not in a creepy way, simply to assess what she’s wearing. “You’re already dressed.”   
  
“I’m wearing a robe.”   
  
“Exactly!” he says, turning around and heading towards the table.   
  
“Easy for you to say,” she mutters, following behind him. “You’re fully dressed in that magician’s coat. Did it come with a bunch of scarves in the sleeve?”   
  
He doesn’t say anything, though he does shoot her a glare as he sits down. She smirks as she tucks in.   
  
“So... why the sudden change in eating places?” she asks, spreading jam over her toast and folding it in half.   
  
He doesn’t reply immediately. He pauses and shrugs half-heartedly before he pours more maple syrup onto his pancakes. “Felt like a change.”   
  
She wonders if the feeling had anything to do with spending more time with her. And then the guilt settles down again inside her. She pushes the thought away hastily and smiles half-heartedly at him when she notices his eyes on her.   
  
“You’re a mystery, River Song,” he says softly, his eyes narrowed at her. But not in a threatening way - more like a thoughtful way. Like he can’t quite figure her out.    
  
She raises her eyebrows at him and lets out a snort. “You’re not exactly an open book either, Doctor.”   
  
He clears his throat then, smiling just a little as he reaches for more sausages. “Where did you teach?”   
  
“Luna University,” she answers. He looks mildly impressed, but he doesn’t say anything else and she gets the signal - it’s her turn to ask a question. “How old are you?”   
  
“Fifty-eight. You?”   
  
“Forty-nine. Ever had a girlfriend?”   
  
He snaps his head up to glare at her while she looks at him innocently, batting her eyelashes. “ _ Yes _ ,” he hisses.    
  
They continue their getting-to-know-you game all through breakfast, sharing a few stories and laughing together at funny anecdotes. It feels right and yet wrong to River. She’s enjoying herself quite thoroughly, but even so, during the entire course of their heavy meal there’s a voice whispering right by her ear: stay away.  _ Stay away, Melody Pond. Stay away, Melody Smith. _   
  
She hasn’t decided if she even wants to stay away from the Doctor. What would she do with all her time? It isn’t like there’s anyone else she can talk to in this house. She can’t avoid him without bringing up unwanted questions.   
  
And really, there isn’t a valid reason to stay away from him - not in her eyes, anyway. They can be friends. Good friends, and nothing more. There’s nothing wrong with that.   
  
So she squashes that annoying little voice by her ear and tells herself that everything is fine. Just  _ fine _ .   
  
But her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.   
  
Thankfully, she doesn’t ask more questions after breakfast is over. He gives her a smile and thanks her for washing up before heading back into his office, and River lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding when she hears his door shut behind him.   
  
She feels her shoulders sag as she wipes the dishes, confusion and guilt and just a tiny bit of  _ fear _ gripping her heart and overwhelming her body. It feels like her head and her heart are at war with each other, neither one willing to back down until the other is broken and bruised - and the rest of her body is paying the price of their battle.   
  
Sometimes, when it all gets too much for her to handle, when it gets too hard for her to breathe, that’s when it happens - her heart starts beating faster and her brain starts churning louder and louder and all her body wants to do is run as fast as she can.   
  
It’s like her own body is betraying her, kicking her when she’s down. Her first instinct is to run away but she stays rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. She shuts her eyes and waits for the feeling to pass, clenching her fists into little balls as she feels the tension seeping slowly from her body until she’s finally able to move again.   
  
It’s gotten better since last week. Panic attacks have been frequent and she knows to prepare herself for them but she can’t control how she might react when the sudden fear and adrenaline strikes her heart and takes over her body.   
  
She takes several deep breaths and wipes tears from the corners of her eyes away, swallowing roughly and setting the towel down on the counter. She needs to recover. There’s too much going on in her brain for her to be able to slow down and take time. She needs to slow down.   
  
Wiping the last dish clean, she places it neatly on the shelf and walks back to her room, intent on not thinking of John or the Doctor or  _ anything _ for a few hours.   
  
*   
  
The Doctor eats with her every day after that. He knocks on the door when the meal is ready and they would spend their time talking and laughing. She never expected it to be this easy with him, but it is. And she’s so glad about it.   
  
Since the Doctor refuses to talk about the Vashta Nerada or anything pertaining to it, they’ve mostly been trading stories about their childhoods. She finds out that he grew up in an orphanage, just like she did - only he was never adopted. But because of his stellar achievements in school, he was offered multiple scholarships to a prestigious university, where he continued to make a name for himself.   
  
She, on the other hand, hated the place she grew up in. No one cared about the children - not really. Which was why she’d attempted to run away twelve times before she turned ten, and she was severely punished each time. She made a name for herself there too - the resident troublemaker, playing pranks on the officials and daring any of the other children to bully her.   
  
But then, the summer before she turned eleven, a young couple that was having trouble conceiving asked to see the children. And she ended up leaving with them - that was the day she became Melody Pond, daughter of Amy Pond and Rory Williams.    
  
She was a handful, even more so as a teenager - bad habits are hard to break. But her parents never loved her less. They took her in and nurtured her the only way they could - and even when she would cause trouble on purpose, they were always patient, always understanding. They loved her like she was their own. And she was, all theirs.   
  
“So your mother had to bail you out of jail,” the Doctor starts, eyes narrowing at her in confusion. “Because you stole a bus and drove it through the Botanical Gardens? Why?”   
  
River shrugs, twirling her fork around some linguini. “I thought it’d be fun. And it was.”   
  
The Doctor looks at her like he has no idea whether to be extremely impressed or extremely terrified. She told a lot of stories similar to this one - ones where she did something completely illegal and got caught, thrown in jail, where her parents had to come down and give her an earful.    
  
“And was this before or after you replaced all the books on the reading list with erotica?” the Doctor asks.   
  
“After, of course,” River says, as if it’s obvious. “I was suspended for that, so I had the time.”   
  
“Right,” he mutters, smiling at her in amusement. “Of course.”   
  
“What? You’ve never broken the rules before?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in challenge.   
  
“I have broken rules,” he looks at her pointedly, “but never the  _ law _ .”   
  
“It was just a few vehicles. And I  _ returned _ them after I was done,” River says defensively. “Come on then, Mr Prim and Proper, what rules did you break? Didn’t return a library book on time?”   
  
“Are you ever going to run out of nicknames to call me?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Thought so,” he sighs. “I got caught with a girl in boarding school and we almost got expelled.”   
  
River’s eyes widens and she looks like she’s been handed a slice of heaven when she looks back up at him. “How old were you?”   
  
“Fifteen.”   
  
River gasps. “Oh Doctor, you naughty boy,” she says teasingly, her voice low and sultry. “What happened?”   
  
“I got let off because of my stellar credit,” he brags, making her roll her eyes at him, “and she got let off because of family money.”   
  
“How bad was it?”   
  
“We both still had our underwear on, if that’s what you’re asking,” he tells her. “And don’t get excited because it didn’t happen again.”   
  
River pouts. “Not even once?”   
  
“Not while I was in boarding school.” River smiles at that, her eyes twinkling brightly. He shakes his head. “Nope, nice try. It’s your turn.”   
  
“Fine,” she says, pouting again.   
  
“Did  _ you _ ever get caught?” he asks, very interested.   
  
A smirk appears on River’s face. “Multiple times. Sometimes on purpose - he liked it.”   
  
It was an unspoken rule between them - that they would share stories and anecdotes, but when it came to the people inside said stories, they wouldn’t ask. If the person sharing wanted to elaborate, they would without being prompted. If they didn’t, then that was fine as well.   
  
River likes that rule. She suspects that the Doctor likes it too.   
  
He looks mildly scandalised by her answer, and she chuckles lightly. “There’s not many things I haven’t done, Doctor.”   
  
He raises an eyebrow suggestively at her and she feels something stir in the pit of her stomach. But he looks back down at his plate and as suddenly as the feeling appeared, it disappears.   
  
“And yet you’ve never cooked a proper meal by yourself,” he quips, slurping up more pasta.   
  
“How hard could it be?” she says, shrugging. “I just have to follow a set of instructions and throw things into a pot.”   
  
“Fine, you can cook dinner today-” he leans over and whispers, “-and I’ll  __ watch .”   
  
She raises her eyebrow and tilts her head at him. “Is that something you like to do? My, my, you are bad, Doctor.”   
  
He looks up at her in disbelief. “Must you make everything sexual?”   
  
She smirks, leaning back in her chair and shrugging. “It’s in my nature.”   
  
He sighs exasperatedly and sits up, looking at her. “So you’ll cook dinner?”   
  
“Sure,” she says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I can’t be that bad.”   
  
*

 

She’s terrible at it. The pasta is overcooked and the cheese melted all over the counter because she placed it too close to the fire. She’s had to redo the sauce twice because she burnt it severely, and the meatballs are just a tiny bit over-seasoned. Well, more than a tiny bit. She knocked the packet of salt over and half of it fell into the mixing bowl with the meat. 

 

The Doctor has been watching her struggle, sniggering loudly and offering unhelpful advice as she elects to ignore his presence altogether. She frowns as she studies the recipe again, blowing hair out of her face and huffing determinedly. 

 

“Okay, I’m sure I got it right this time,” she says, pulling a spoon out of one of the drawers and dipping it into the sauce before handing it to the Doctor. “Taste this.”

 

The spoon touches the tip of his tongue and he scrunches his face as if he’s eating a raw lemon. 

 

“The herbs!” he chokes out. “You forgot the herbs. It’s all tomato.”

 

River sighs, her shoulders sagging in defeat. Usually, she’d be as stubborn as a mule and not give up, but she’s tired and sweaty, and being surrounded by heat for over two and a half hours has made her extremely hungry. 

 

She sits next to the Doctor and places her head in her hands. He looks at her, an expression she can’t read taking over his face and he stands suddenly, walking over to the stovetop.

 

“You’re not as bad as you think,” he tells her, turning the stove back on and heating the sauce she made. “You’re just going about it all wrong.”

 

She peeks up at him through her fingers. “What do you mean?”

 

He walks up to the counter she’s sitting behind and leans his hands down on it, looking at her. “When you get paid for playing about in the mud - ” River gives him a look of warning but he continues normally, “- do you prepare your tools first?”

 

“Of course,” she says.

 

“Exactly.” He bends and grabs a bottle of wine and one glass from under the counter, pouring her a generous amount. “Watch and learn.”

 

She sips at her wine as she watches him work around the kitchen, preparing the ingredients. He chops up the tomatoes, onions, garlic and a few other vegetables expertly, tipping them into the sauce once he’s done. He throws the oversalted meatballs into the trash and she lets out sound of indignation.

 

He turns to look at her. “Were you going to finish those?”

 

She doesn’t answer.

 

He prepares a new batch of meat, moving so quickly that she thinks he’s probably made this same dish a thousand times before. In no time at all, he’s whipped up a delicious meal of spaghetti and meatballs. He places the plate in front of her, fully garnished. 

 

“Never seen an old man move that fast before,” she says, picking up a fork.

 

“Watch it. I just did you a favour,” he says, pointing his spatula at her.

 

“And I’m eternally grateful for your service.” She bows mockingly to him. “Now hurry up and sit down. I’m starving.”

 

He pulls up a stool beside her and sits, smiling as he watches her enjoy the food he made. “Good?” he asks.

 

She looks sideways at him. “Yes,” she says, reluctant to compliment him any more than she’s already done. 

 

“You have to prepare your cooking utensils and your ingredients first. Make sure you have everything you have within reach, and keep your countertops clear to avoid clutter.” He tells her. “It really isn’t that difficult, River.”

 

“Maybe you’re just that good at cooking.” She shrugs.

 

“I can teach you, if you want.” He offers. “You know, so you can eat something other than pizza and takeout when you get out of here.”

 

She hadn’t really given that much thought to what would happen when they were finally free to leave. Would she ever see the Doctor again? Where would she go now that John isn’t here? She can’t possibly stay in their small flat and continue to teach at Luna University. 

 

“I’d love to,” she says, offering him a genuine smile.

 

They continue their meal in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s comforting presence. There’s another thing River likes about the Doctor - just like Vastra, he doesn’t mind long stretches of silence. He doesn’t care for small talk - in fact, he dislikes it even more than he dislikes archaeology. He’s perfectly content to enjoy the quiet, finding nothing uncomfortable about it.

 

She does the dishes but he stays to help, saying that technically, both of them cooked - and therefore both of them should wash up. She can’t argue with that logic, so she lets him wipe the dishes dry while she washes them with soap.

 

“Are you going out to stargaze again tonight?” he asks her, not looking at her. It’s been nine days since he caught her sneaking out to watch the stars. She’s been sneaking out like clockwork every night, and she doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

 

“Of course I am,” she says, placing another clean plate in front of him. “Are you planning to join me again?”

 

He hasn’t been following her out since that first night - she suspects it’s because he’s either scared or embarrassed about what happened the first time.

 

“Will you allow me to?” he asks quietly, his tone serious.

 

She stops drying her hands and turns to face him, a frown on her face. “What do you mean?”

 

He takes his time cleaning the last dish, wiping the edges and placing it gently in the rack. He turns to face her as well, his piercing blue eyes staring at her like he’s trying to read her. 

 

“Would you rather be alone tonight?” he asks, his eyes travelling over her as if he wants to know if she’ll be honest with him.

 

For some reason, this makes her fold her arms in defense. She doesn’t know if she would rather be alone tonight - all she knows is that she certainly wouldn’t mind if he tagged along. She wouldn’t mind his company - she might even enjoy it.

 

“I don’t know,” she says truthfully. His expression doesn’t change. “But I won’t mind, if you want.”

 

He frowns down at her. “You’re confusing, River,” he says, but there’s no anger or frustration in his tone - just a statement, pure fact. He tilts his head at her. “Do you want me there?” he asks again.

 

She lifts her shoulders in an indecisive manner. “I mean - I wouldn’t mind. I guess it’ll be nice to talk to you.”

 

“Vastra is coming in the morning, so we’ll only have about two hours,” he says to her, and when she tilts her head questioningly up at him, he continues. “She had very specific instructions when she brought you here, so we’ll have to cover our tracks properly.” 

 

River nods in understanding. “Right. So ten minutes?”

 

She makes to head back to her room but he stops her, his fingers circling around her wrist and tugging her back. She exclaims in surprise but stops abruptly when she realises how close they are - they’re just barely an inch apart.

 

“Doctor?” she asks, looking up at him. Confusion lines her features but when she makes eye contact with him, everything stops.

 

She feels her breath hitch at his expression - at the way his eyes soften at her, and the way his lips curl gently into a tender smile. She feels his gaze flicker down to her lips just like it did nine days ago, and she feels her cheeks heat up. What is he doing to her?

 

“You are so…  _ different _ , River Song,” he whispers, looking into her eyes. “So unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.”

 

He stares at her for a few more moments, his eyes studying her face like she's the most precious jewel in the world. The way he looks at her takes her breath away, and she stays rooted to the spot as she stares back at him, completely lost in him. Her heart thumps hard in her chest, faster and faster as he leans in, closer and closer and closer.

 

Part of her wants to move away. To apologise and to tell him that she just isn’t ready for something like that yet. But another part of her, a bigger part of her, wants to stay rooted to the spot. To feel something other than the underlying ache in her heart that’s  _ always there _ . To just forget all the sad and embrace all the good - to embrace the Doctor. 

 

So she does. 

 

The moment their lips touch, she feels her heart skip. She feels his long fingers around her waist, tugging her closer, and she pulls at his shirt as her other hand reaches up to run through his hair. It’s passionate but slow, and he kisses her as if he’s been waiting for her his entire life, as if he’s been holding it all back for so long and he just  _ can’t _ anymore. 

 

She kisses him back, sighing softly into his mouth because he makes her  _ feel. _ He makes her laugh and he’s infuriating, and when she’s with him her heart finally feels full. Like the hole that John left when he died hadn’t existed at all.

 

_ Like the hole that John left when he died hadn’t existed at all. _

 

_ The hole that John left when he died. _

 

_ John left when he died. _

 

_ John died. _

 

John.

 

“No!” she shouts, jumping away as if she’s been burnt.

 

“River?” he asks in concern. His hair is mussed from her running her fingers through it and his lips are slightly swollen. Even in this state he looks so much more attractive than she ever noticed him to be. “What’s wrong?”

 

Her eyes fill with tears and she swallows harshly as she takes in deep breaths because  _ no one  _ deserves this. John doesn’t deserve this. The Doctor doesn’t deserve this.  _ She _ doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve the Doctor - not in a million years, not after everything she’s done. The Doctor doesn’t deserve to be led on.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, tears falling down rapidly. She backs away from the Doctor slowly, shaking her head. “I can’t - I can’t do this now. I’m so,  _ so _ sorry.”

 

And she runs, leaving the Doctor stunned and confused.

 

*

 

She slams the door behind her, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she heaves. How could she have been so  _ stupid _ ? How could she ever have done this to John?

 

Inside, her head and her heart are no longer at war. Now her heart is fighting itself, torn between two options - the man she loved and lost, or the man whose charm and wit has attracted her - albeit reluctantly - from the very beginning.

 

River slides to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She hears the Doctor banging on her bedroom door and calling out her name, but the sound is faded and distant. All she can hear is John’s voice in her head, echoing through the room:  _ “Always and completely, Melody.” _

 

Tears of guilt and confusion flood her eyes and stain her cheeks. Guilt because she’s betraying John. Confusion because is she really betraying him when she knows he’s never coming back? And even more confusion because the Doctor - oh, the Doctor. It scares her, how readily she had responded to his kiss. How, for the first time in months, it had felt like she was finally  _ living _ again. How she had wanted so much  _ more. _

 

And she feels absolutely ridiculous because really, what does she know about the Doctor? She doesn’t know his name, or what he worked as, or even if he had any family, for God’s sake. He certainly didn’t know much about her, either. And yet here she is, torn between him and John - someone she spent over a decade loving and cherishing. This should be  _ easy _ .

 

But her heart breaks in her chest because John - he isn’t  _ here. _ He won’t ever  _ be _ here, not anymore. She knows that, she watched it happen - hell, she might as well have put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. But she feels lonely and all she wants - all she  _ needs _ \- is for him to hold her, to whisper in her ear that everything will turn out alright in the end, like he did a thousand times before.

 

River feels so much that it  _ hurts. _ It pains her to breathe, each breath like a knife in her lungs reminding her that she’ll have to spend the rest of her life without John. She clutches at her chest, heaving as she tries to breathe through the pain. 

 

The Doctor has stopped knocking, and River is grateful for that. She feels like she might scream if he continued.

 

She lets her head thump back against the door, shutting her eyes tightly. She doesn’t bother to get into bed because she knows she won’t be getting any sleep tonight. 

 

It’s come down to that question again - the one that has been swirling in her mind since that night that the Doctor had found her outside: John or the Doctor?

 

She knows then. Maybe she’s known it from the start. Maybe the reaction that the Doctor’s kiss had invoked from her had given her the answer. Maybe she’s been living like this for so long that she knows no other way.

 

She chooses John. 


	5. take me into your darkest hour and i'll never desert you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! we only have a few chapters left to go, which is so so exciting!!! thank you to everyone who left a comment last chapter, i'm so so thankful for you guys. you have no idea how happy you made me - i wasnt even expecting that much feedback! more please! your comments just make my entire day and i'm so happy to read them :)))
> 
> Chapter title from 'I'll Stand By You' by The Pretenders.

She doesn’t know how long she sits with her back against the door, tears streaming down her face as the occasional sob wracked her body. Her room is dark and lonely - there are only memories here to keep her company, but she welcomes them with open arms. She prefers it this way.

_ You prefer not knowing what having the Doctor feels like, _ her traitorous heart whispers,  _ because you’re afraid you’ll prefer that to this. _

Shoving the voice that sounded annoyingly like Vastra deep into the internal depths of her mind, she drags herself to her feet and collapses into bed. She feels colder, emptier, and she wishes she could just turn the clock back to when she was joking and laughing around with the Doctor. Before she’d made that  _ stupid _ mistake of kissing him. 

She shivers in the bed, the cold night creeping onto her skin. She doesn’t have the strength to pull the covers up over her head - in fact, she’d be perfectly content to lay there and possibly freeze to death. At least then she’ll be saved from the hurricane of emotions inside her. At least then she’ll be able to see John again. 

A soft knock interrupts her thoughts but she doesn’t move, knowing that if she ignores it, the Doctor will take the hint and leave. But his knocks remain patient and persistent, his voice - more tender than she’s ever heard it - calls out her name just loud enough for her to hear.

“River, please open the door,” he says. “It’s very important - you need to leave the room.”

But she doesn’t want to leave her room. And she doesn’t want to face him. So she continues ignoring him, curling up into a ball and huddling with the pillows for warmth.

After a few minutes, the Doctor sighs in defeat.

“The power’s gone out. The backup generator kicks in in about three minutes, but it only works in my room. And that means you won’t have any heat,” the Doctor says softly through the door. “I’d leave you to freeze to death, but Madame Vastra will definitely decapitate me and I’d rather not kick the door down.”

Through River’s dull ache, her mind conjures up an image of the Doctor’s skinny and bony figure kicking the door open and failing comically. She manages a small snort of laughter, wiping her tears away and pushing herself up to look hesitantly at the door.

The moment her blanket slips passed her shoulders, she feels the coldness pierce her skin. Teeth starting to chatter, she throws the warm blanket over herself again. She’s not sure how she’ll be able to move to the door without it. Her shoulders start to shiver and she clings tighter onto the heavy material of the blanket, clutching it to her. Every part of her body is wrapped around the quilt except for her head. She tries to pull it up over her, but the blanket isn’t long enough, and she contorts her body into an uncomfortable position so that she’ll be able to stay under the blanket.

She doesn’t know if she falls asleep from the emotional exhaustion or to preserve her energy - all she remembers is the night getting unbearably colder with each passing minute and the Doctor threatening to break the door in.

*

She startles awake from another dream, her husband’s face smiling lovingly behind her eyelids as her vision focuses. The first thing she feels is the warmth of a fire, followed soft blankets beneath her. She becomes vaguely aware that she isn’t in her own room anymore.

Blinking blearily and trying to shake off the image of John, she sits up but stays close to the fireplace, looking around in confusion. What happened? Is she still in the safe house? Where’s the Doctor?

She feels a belated chill going through her body as she remembers what had happened before she fell asleep. The Doctor had been pounding relentlessly on her bedroom door - did he finally make good on his threat to break it down? Was he the one who brought her here?

Was this his actual  _ room _ ?

Eyes widening at the thought and curiosity quickly taking over, she turns her head, looking carefully around the room. She quickly realises that she is still in the safe house and that this is, in fact, the Doctor’s room.

Well,  _ room _ isn’t exactly the right word for it.  _ Den _ was a more appropriate term. The space was three times as large as her own bedroom, and she notes that there are indeed three doors leading in and out on one side of the wall. It seems that the Doctor had knocked down the walls separating the rooms and made it into one giant, personal man cave. 

There are six tall shelves filled to the brim with books - mostly textbooks and other informative sources, although there is one shelf dedicated entirely to fiction. More books are stacked haphazardly on top of the shelves, and River pushes herself off the floor to get a closer look. 

A queen size bed sits quietly at the corner of the room, and at the sight of the rumpled sheets River finds herself wondering if the Doctor is the type of person to take up all the space and hog all the covers. She snorts silently, thinking that she wouldn’t at all be surprised if he were.

Her eyes scanning the room again, she spots a chalkboard covering almost an entire wall and a desk in front of it. Studying the scrawl up close, she realises that it’s scribbles of math equations that she has a mediocre understanding of.

On the opposite wall sits a small closet that River knows can only contain that ridiculous magician’s outfit of his. She doubts he owns anything else. 

Beside it sits a large, floor-length mirror that River frowns at in amusement, a smirk curling quickly at her lips. What use does he have for a mirror that size when he wears the same thing every day?

Ah, the vanity of men.

She turns, still smirking, and eyes the assortment of pictures littered all over the room - on his desk and on the bookshelves, on his bedside table and above the fireplace on the mantel. River recognises a younger version of the Doctor smiling at the camera, looking genuinely happy under his angry eyebrows that he had even when he was younger. 

As she scans the three photographs on his desk, she realises that in every one of them the Doctor is posing with a young girl by his side. She looks no older than sixteen and she has bright eyes, a pale, round face and a pixie hair cut. There aren’t any physical similarities between her and the Doctor, but River knows that she had to have been important to the Doctor for him to remember her in such a way. Perhaps she had been a protegee of some sort?

Picking a frame up carefully and examining the photo with interest, River finds her mind racing with theories as to who this mysterious girl was and why she meant so much to the Doctor. Each theory is wilder than the next, and she quickly discards them until only three seem plausible; had he been a close friend of her family? Or her adoptive parent? Or had her original theory of the girl being his protegee been correct?

The sound of footsteps approaching quickly breaks her train of thought. She places the picture frame down hastily back where it was and rushes over to the bookcases, pulling a book out at random and flipping through it. She finds a random page and realises with surprise that she’s reading  _ Pride and Prejudice. _ The Doctor’s untidy scrawl covers most of the margins and she struggles to understand any of it, but part of her is so fascinated by how well-loved this copy is. She glances back at the shelf she’d randomly pulled the book from and finds other titles like  _ Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights  _ and a copy of a book just as well-loved as the others, but perhaps just a tad bit out of place with the other much older novels,  _ The Time Traveller’s Wife. _

“I see you’ve woken up,” the Doctor’s voice says from behind her.

She turns, book still in hand. He looks tired, his eyes drooping and his shoulders sagging - but more than that, he looks cautious and wary. Like he isn’t quite sure what to say or do next. 

River swallows a lump that had formed in her throat, remembering everything that had transpired between them last night before she went to bed. From the last few weeks of learning more and more about the Doctor, she knew that he was probably just keeping his distance just in case she felt uncomfortable.

Shifting a little, she tries to put what she can’t say in words into her expression, and she sends him a soft smile in greeting.

“Never pegged you for the gothic novel type,” she says, gesturing to his bookshelves. 

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, River,” he answers softly, still not moving from his spot at the door.

Feeling the chilly air from outside slowly seeping in, she looks pointedly behind him and says, “Are you going to enter and shut the door? You’re letting all the cold air in.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he steps into the room and shuts the door behind him, regarding her with careful eyes that she tries to ignore. She looks down at the big plastic bag he’s carrying with a questioning look in her eyes.

“Frozen food. We’ll have to use the fireplace until the electricity is back on again. The rest of the house is like a freezer,” he tells her, heading towards his desk and stashing the food under it. 

He doesn’t move towards her as he nods at the shelves. “Find anything you like?”

She glances back at the shelf, taking her time answering. She spots another familiar title and pulls it out, placing  _ Pride and Prejudice _ back from where she took it.

A wide smirk spreads across her face as she stares at the woman on the cover, her face covered by a fedora and the angle that her head is tilted at. She wears a coat, the top buttons open and peeled back to reveal an impressive amount of decolletage.

“ _ Melody Malone _ ,” River reads. To her surprise and delight, the Doctor starts to turn red. “I didn’t know you liked murder mysteries, Doctor.”

“I just like the cover,” he mumbles, not meeting her eye.

River smirks. “I’m sure you do.” She places the book back on the shelf, her finger delicately tracing the pen name she’d chosen on the spine of her book. She turns back to him, meeting his eyes expectantly. “So how long are we cooped up in here?”

The Doctor studies her carefully as he answers. “Probably two or three days. The power will turn itself back on,” he tells her, and she bites her lip at the thought of spending at least two full days in the Doctor’s presence. She is careful to school her face into a neutral expression, though. She doesn’t want the Doctor to keep his distance and make things even more awkward between them.  “But don’t worry, I got word out to UNIT. Vastra won’t be coming today - she’ll have to wait till the storm passes before she gets to us.”

“And they said nothing about the Vashta Nerada?” River asks, though she knows his answer even before he opens his mouth to reply.

“No,” he says shortly. She nods in acknowledgement, but still he catches the disappointment in her face and he sighs. “I’m sure that if there was any important news they would’ve told us immediately.”

“Yeah,” she nods, though she doesn’t look convinced.

He nods and looks away, still not sure how to comfort her. He doesn’t know how much of him is welcome - clearly she hadn’t been comfortable yesterday when he kissed her, but was she okay with flirting? Bantering? All the things they used to do with each other before he’d buggered everything up?

He doesn’t want her to be uncomfortable. Especially not now that she’ll be sleeping in the same room as him. He just wished he hadn’t been so crass yesterday - pulling her in and kissing her as if she was his. He doesn’t know what came over him - what was he doing, kissing a woman he met barely a month ago? Kissing her as if he knew everything about her?

But God, how he wanted to.

River brings out a side in him he thought he’d lost all those years ago when he relegated his life underground. He feels a tugging at his gut and a spark in his chest and it’s foreign but familiar, and he can’t explain it.

It almost feels like a… _ crush _ .

The Doctor cringes at the thought, and he looks around for a bottle of water, wanting to wash the cringeworthy word out of his mind. He gulps the water down and searches for a new word because  _ crush _ doesn’t seem appropriate for his feelings for her. He doesn’t follow her around like a puppy or hang on to her every word. No, this feeling is much more mature - considerate.

Adoration, perhaps, or fondness.

Yes, he can’t deny that he does have a certain  _ fondness _ for River Song. She’s beautiful, clever and mysterious - and the Doctor has never been strong enough to turn down an opportunity to investigate such an alluring woman. But she’s much more than just her beautiful eyes or her bewitching hair or her tempting smile. Her wit and her charm and her humour - almost everything about her seemed to pull him in.

And in the end, he supposes, he really is just a lonely old man.

Not quite knowing what to say next, the Doctor places his bottle down and turns. He leans back against the desk and crosses his arms, his eyes examining the work he’d been perfecting for almost thirty years. There isn’t much left to do now. 

“What is all this?” River asks from behind him.

Relieved that she’d started a conversation but still not turning to face her, he answers, “It’s my work for UNIT. The reason why I went into hiding.”

“It looks… impressive.” River says.

Unable to contain himself, he shoots her a look over his shoulder. “I suppose everything would be impressive to an archaeologist.”

There’s a pause.

“Or maybe I don’t understand it because it looks like chicken’s feet,” River retorts.

“Genius breakthroughs wait for no one, least of all tidiness.”

“‘ _ Genius breakthroughs’ _ would be much more useful if anyone else could decipher them.”

The Doctor scowls at her. “It isn’t  _ that _ bad.”

“Chicken’s feet,” River says again. He shoots her a glare that she ignores, rounding the table and standing next to him. “What did UNIT have you working on?”

He casts a sideways glance at her. She doesn’t look at him, narrowing her eyes at the chalkboard to study the equations more closely.

He clears his throat and turns back to the board. “Time travel,” he answers finally.

“ _ What _ ?” River asks, turning to him, eyes widening in disbelief.

“You know, travelling to the future and past - that sort of thing,” he says, and she gives him an annoyed look, rolling her eyes.

“I know what time travel is,” she says pushing herself off the desk and walking up to the chalkboard. “I just can’t believe that you’re - how close are you to getting it right? You’ll have to find a way to travel faster than the speed of light, correct?”

The Doctor shoots her a look. “For an archaeologist, you know an awful lot about physics.”

The statement causes her to freeze unexpectedly, and he’s almost on the brink of apologising for - well, he doesn’t actually know what he said, but he knows that it had upset her for whatever reason.

She turns, her lips pursed and her eyes hesitant. She seems to be deep in thought when she looks up at him, but she comes to a decision a split second later when she says, “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

Seizing the chance to get to know her better, the words come tumbling out of his mouth even before he realises he’d spoken.

“Well, it’s much more complicated than that. The vessel will have to be able to withstand the amount of pressure and air resistance when it takes flight. It has to be made out of something specific. Light speed travel could also be dangerous because we haven’t figured out how to tell where we’re going to end up - it could be an entirely new destination. I’m trying to figure out how far into time we can travel as well as the distance. It’s very complex.”

River watches the Doctor with an almost fond smile on her face. She understands now why he hadn’t been married - no one else could compete with his work. The way he gestured with his hands and his eyes sparkled as he explained the intricacies of time travel is almost comparable to the way John had looked at her. It’s odd, seeing that expression on someone else’s face. 

He turns back to her when he finishes, and she almost feels like she should give him a standing ovation or something. That had been quite an entertaining performance, even if she had barely followed his words.

“So you’re almost cracking it then? The secret to time travel?” she asks.

“We’re very close.” He nods. “If I’d been able to work directly with the other scientists and technicians at UNIT and given the appropriate materials, we could’ve discovered it ages ago.”

Something clicks in River’s brain and she looks at him, realisation dawning on her. “This is what the Vashta Nerada are after - your calculations.”

The Doctor’s lips turn upwards just slightly, though he doesn’t confirm or deny the truth of her statement. He doesn’t have to; his silence is enough of an answer.

River swallows. “What happened?” she asks softly.

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes as if the mere thought of it is too painful to bear. The sight of the Doctor trying desperately to hold back tears makes River’s own eyes wet, and she blinks them away hurriedly.

A tense silence fills the air and the Doctor keeps his eyes on the floor, unable to look at River. She’s never seen him quite so emotional before - she wasn’t prepared for it to be such a heartbreaking sight. 

“I was called in to investigate abnormal disappearances in a library,” River starts softly, her voice shaking just slightly. “Four thousand and twenty-two people vanished from the largest library on Earth with no explanation. UNIT was under the impression that the Vashta Nerada had something to do with it. It wasn’t the first time UNIT called me in to investigate something, so I agreed - much too easily. The moment we set foot in the place, we were ambushed. All six of us - my team, my husband and I - ” the Doctor takes in a sharp breath at the word ‘husband’ but River goes on, eager to get the story over and done with. “-were captured and taken to one of their bases, called ‘Demon’s Run’.”

River pauses, clenching her hands together until her knuckles are white to keep them from trembling. She takes in a deep breath and tries to stop her eyes from filling with tears as best as she can but it’s almost impossible now.

“They tortured me.” The Doctor looks up at her and she sees tears in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. “They wanted information, so they tried to make me talk by making me watch or listen as they killed the people under my command. But when there were only three of us left, they grew desperate.”

*

_ Melody heaves until the bag is lifted from her head, the musky smell leaving a horrid aftertaste and the not-quite fresh air refreshing her lungs. She’d been in that bag for hours - she’d woken up with it tied to her neck. She’d struggled at first, but being unable to see her attackers made it much harder for her to fight back than it usually was. _

_ So she finally succumbed to it. But as a punishment for being disobedient, the bag had stayed over her head for far longer than intended. Only when she found that it was getting hard to breathe, the guard had deemed it an appropriate time to move her.  _

_ She felt two arms heave her roughly over their shoulder like she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes and slammed her back down on a hard, wooden chair. She was careful not to make a sound as they did this - it simply wouldn’t do to satisfy their hunger for pain. As much as it hurt to keep quiet as they handled her like an old rag doll, she won’t give them the gratification. _

_ It takes another few minutes for them to whip the bag over her head. When they do, she sees that there are two other chairs, and they’re all arranged in a circle, facing each other. She feels a sinking feeling in her gut because her husband’s lanky frame is a dead giveaway, and that meant that Anita must be the other one seated in the chair. They’re both oddly silent and Melody resists the urge to call out their names, wondering if this is some sort of test from the Eyepatch Lady. Will they shoot the first person whose name she calls? She doesn’t want to take that chance. _

_ She stays silent and surveys them instead. They don’t seem to have been physically tortured as much as she’s been, thank God. There are some bruises, cuts and gashes along their arms and legs, and she knows her husband well enough by now to know that a few of his ribs are cracked by the way he’s sitting. Other than that, both of them seem to be okay on the outside.  _

_ Three guards and the Eyepatch Lady enters, and Melody smiles serenely at them. She’s injured almost every other well-trained guard they have stationed at Demon’s Run - the other two must be outside the cell door.  _

_ “We’ve brought presents for you,” the Lady says, her smile as sweet as candy and as venomous as a snake at the same time.  _

_ “How very nice of you,” Melody answers sarcastically, though some of its effect is lost due to the hoarseness of her voice from the lack of water. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her husband’s leg twitch a little at the sound of her voice. “Does it come with or without the psychological torture?”  _

_ The Eyepatch Lady laughs, but it’s too shrill and high and Melody grits her teeth at the sound of it. “Now, what would be the fun without it?” She turns to her guards and jerks her head in the direction of the circle. “Proceed.” _

_ They shuffle forward immediately like obedient dogs. Melody would’ve loved that the Eyepatch Lady had all these men to do her bidding if she wasn’t part of a genocidal cult.  _

_ The first man heads straight to her and she glares as furiously as she can as he unlocks her handcuffs, freeing her wrists. He gives her a twisted smile as he reaches into his jacket for something and holds up a gun, which he promptly drops onto her lap. _

_ She stares at it, dread filling her veins faster and faster as she watches the other two men lift the bags off Anita’s and John’s heads. She knows what she’s meant to do the moment she catches the Eyepatch Lady’s eyes.  _

_ She would honestly rather shoot herself. _

_ The guard picks the gun up and forces it into her hands as she shakes her head desperately, pleading with them for the first time since she’s been here. She takes one look at her husband’s face and tears start to fill her eyes because she’s never felt so happy and yet so angry and heartbroken to see him.  _

_ Why couldn’t it be anyone else? _

_ The guard has to forcibly unfurl her fingers from her clenched hands and curl them around the handle of the gun and she’s never hated carrying a weapon like this before. She’s always been adept at firearms, but now, with knowledge of what they’re forcing her to do, she can’t even touch it without shaking violently.  _

_ “No.  _ No _ , please, no,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes and clouding her vision as she shakes her head in desperation.  _

_ The Eyepatch Lady opens her mouth to speak, but she’s interrupted when the heavy cell doors slam open and a big, burly guard strides in.  _

_ “Madame Kovarian…” he addresses the Eyepatch Lady, and Melody’s head snaps around. To finally put a wicked name to a wicked face is satisfying. She strains her ears to listen to the conversation, even as the tears start falling down her face. “Agents… raid… ten minutes… evacuate…” _

_ “Very well,” Madame Kovarian says, nodding at the guard, who turns to leave. “Leave the door open so we can make a quick getaway.” _

_ “Yes, ma’am.” _

_ She turns back to Melody and doesn’t waste any more time. “Let’s start the game!” She says, her voice remaining calm and neutral but something about her demeanour has changed - she seems almost anxious to get everything over and done with. “It’s called ‘Duck, Duck, Shoot’. Do you know it?” She pauses a while but Melody only answers with the most contemptuous glare she can muster. “No? Well, it’s a variety of ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’, but with a slight twist. You’ll know when we get to it. Is everyone clear?” _

_ No one answers, of course. Melody is still glaring, tears rolling down her cheeks, and Anita is sobbing silently while John is looking intently at her as if he knows it’s the last time he’ll see her. She wishes he would stop that. She can’t look at him while he’s looking at her like that. _

_ “Let’s start,” Madame Kovarian moves around the outside of the circle and Melody shuts her eyes, her heart pounding and her eyes puffy and red already. She  _ knows _ \- Madame Kovarian knows that she’s married to John, and now she’ll have to shoot him. The game is just for fun. “Duck, duck, duck - shoot.” _

_ She walks in a circle, her finger tapping the back of their heads as she passes. When she stops at John, her hand touching his hair Melody almost shrieks in despair. She can’t do this.  _ She can’t do this. _ She can’t kill her husband. She’d rather kill herself. _

_ Melody shakes her head and falls forward in her chair, sobbing quietly. John speaks to her, calming her the way only he can. _

_ “Melody, look at me,” he whispers. When she lifts her head, his eyes are as intense and loving as ever. “It’s okay.  _ It’s okay. _ You are forgiven. You are always and  _ completely _ forgiven, Melody Pond. Do you understand?” _

_ “John,” she sobs, her body shaking, “My love, please, I -” _

_ “ _ It’s okay. _ It’s okay, dear,” he whispers back. He looks almost accepting of his fate, as if he wouldn’t want to go any other way. He smiles and she’s reminded of their wedding day, how he’d looked so unmistakably in love as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. “I love you. I understand, and you’re forgiven, wife.” _

_ The endearment sends her into another spiral of emotions and she can sense clearly how impatient Madame Kovarian and her goons are getting and she can only think of one thing -  _ stall. 

_ “I can’t do it,” she cries, shaking her head. “Please, John.  _ Please.”

_ “Melody,” Madame Kovarian sing-songs. “I’m  _ waiting. _ ” _

_ Stall. _

_ She refuses to answer, her eyes boring into John’s. He smiles and nods towards the gun. She looks down at her lap and picks it up slowly, weighing it in her hands as she swallows nervously. She’s had a weapon like this before - and this one is fully loaded. If she’s careful, she might be able… _

_ She raises the weapon to eye level, her hands shaking quite violently. John’s smile is starting to waver, too, but he doesn’t seem scared. Just quite heartbroken.  _

_ “I love you,” he reminds her, as if she could forget. _

_ “It’s okay, right?” she asks. “Everything will be fine?”  _

_ He nods. “You could never hurt me, Melody.” _

_ “But if I -” she starts, but she’s interrupted by Madame Kovarian. _

_ “Oh, for God’s sake! Will you just get on with -” _

_ But she’s interrupted too, by the heavy cell door slamming open once again and she hears screams and shouts and gunfire being exchanged. She tosses herself to the ground and reaches for the nearest chair around her and tilts its legs, letting the chair fall so the person won’t be in the line of fire.  _

_ Her hands still clenched around the gun, she searches around desperately, trying to figure out what’s happening - bodies are dropping all around and some of the guards are coming in still, helping their fellows fend off UNIT Agents. In the midst of all the chaos she sees Madame Kovarian slipping away with another armed guard and panic courses through her body as she raises her arms and empties the fully loaded weapon. _

_ She kills the armed guard but Kovarian has slipped away without his assistance and she curses, trying to stand but still being bound to the chair by her legs. She looks around desperately for her husband, hoping to talk to him and kiss him, hoping to smack him over the head because did he really think that she’d ever shoot him? That idiot. _

_ She sees him, toppled over, his legs and wrists still bound to the chair. She crawls slowly over to him and drops down next to him, and kisses him soundly on the lips. _

_ “You idiot,” she mutters fondly. “I’d never hurt you.” _

_ “I know,” he answers, but his voice is tired - too tired. “I did get hurt, though.” _

_ “What?” Melody asks, her face in utter panic as her hands reach out for him, trying to feel for any blood since his shirt is already covered in dirt. She finds a wet patch close to his right lung and she closes her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay as she feels the horror wash over her. “You’ll be okay, John. I swear, we’ll get help and we’ll get out together and by this time next week - ” _

_ “We’ll be in therapy together,” he jokes, but she can’t find it in herself to laugh. He’s already lost so much blood - he must’ve been shot the second those Agents burst through the door - and she’d wasted that time shooting at Kovarian when she should’ve been helping her husband.  _

_ She rips the sleeves of her shirt off and tries to tie it around him, but her hands are shaking too much and it takes her several tries. _

_ “I don’t think that will hold out too long, love,” he whispers, and she realises with rising panic that he’s getting weaker and weaker. “It’s okay - ” _

_ “No, it isn’t!” she cries, and tears start to pour out of her. “You’re not okay, John, you might - I might lose you - I -” _

_ “Melody, look at me,” he whispers. “I love you so much, honey. You made me so incredibly happy.” _

_ “No,” she says weakly, “Don’t, John, please - ” _

_ “I want to say goodbye. I won’t make it out of this one, dear. It’s okay,” he says, smiling up at her like she’s the very thing he wants to see last. “How do you want me to say goodbye?” _

_ “Don’t,” she whispers again, tears falling onto his cheeks. She kisses him greedily, passionately, like she knows she won’t ever get to do it again. She leans back and looks down at him - and she knows. It’s the last time. “Say it like you’re going to come back.” _

_ His smile widens for a moment. “Okay, then.” He licks his lips. It’s getting harder and harder for him to speak now, she can tell. It’s taking a lot of effort for him to get the words out, but he manages. “See you around, Professor Melody Pond.”  _

_ It’s what he’d said to her every day when they parted for their classes - it had started the day they met and hadn’t stopped, even after they got married.  _

_ She smiles - only for him. _

_ “Till the next time, Professor John Smith.” _

_ He closes his eyes, his smile still wide as they day they’d gotten married. _


	6. sure as the dawn brings the sunrise, we have unshakeable bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i’m so so sorry for the long break between this chapter and the last, but i was in a bit if a block. thank you for all the comments and i really hope you enjoy the last chapter!!!
> 
> Chapter title from ‘Far Longer Than Forever’ by The Swan Princess Movie

The Doctor listens to River speak without interrupting, tears flooding his eyes as he listens to River describe how she’d been kept and tortured, how she had to watch her husband die right in front of her - how she said goodbye to him. She starts crying, her voice shaking slightly as she tells her story, and he knows it’s the first time she’s said the words out loud. He can’t quite believe she trusts him enough to be the one she says them to. 

“River, I -” he starts, his voice soft and hoarse from the emotion rising in his throat. She looks at him, tears flowing silently down her cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say - what could be enough to take away the pain she’s been through - the pain she still has to go through now? “I’m so, so sorry.”

She nods. “I’m sorry too. I - I miss him terribly.” She swallows, blinking rapidly to stop the flow of tears, but it doesn’t work and she wipes at her cheeks irritably. “When you kissed me - ”

The Doctor closes his eyes, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head. “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I never would’ve - ”

“I feel it too,” River confesses, her words slightly rushed. He stops talking, surprised. She doesn’t look at him directly, her eyes lingering at a spot on his shoulder instead. “Whatever you felt when you kissed me - I felt it too. But it’s - I’m not ready for it yet.” She takes a deep breath, running her hands through her hair. “I couldn’t even bury my husband properly.”

He feels like he should apologise again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he merely looks at her - this strong woman who swept into his life a mere month ago and blew him away with her beauty and her intelligence, her wit and her charm. He feels like he understands her better now - he understands what she carries around her shoulders every day when she wakes up; he understands why she feels the need to stargaze in the middle of the night; he understands how this house would suffocate her, leave her breathless, trapped in her own grief.

“I had a daughter,” he says suddenly, and the words surprise him - he hadn’t expected it. But River’s story about her husband has dug up old wounds for him as much as it revealed new ones for her, and he finds himself able to talk about it. River looks up, eyes wide with surprise. He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Susan, her name was. She was beautiful and smart and too cheeky for her own good.”

River remains silent for a while as she processes the new information. It makes sense somehow - picturing the Doctor as a father to a young girl, protecting her, nurturing her as best as he can. But she repeats his words in her mind and she almost chokes from the terrible realisation.

“Was?” she asks softly.

The Doctor’s smile dims only slightly. He turns to his desk and picks up the photo that River had seen earlier - the one with the round-faced girl and a younger Doctor.

“It was twenty years ago. She would’ve turned 34 in three months,” the Doctor sighs slightly and puts the picture back, turning to River. “The Vashta Nerada used her to get to me. I - It didn’t go well.”

River is feels stuck between horror and heartbreak, thousands of scenarios racing through her mind at what might’ve happened to poor Susan. She feels more tears flooding her eyes at the pain the Doctor must’ve felt to lose someone so dear to him.

“I’m so sorry,” River breathes, her voice cracking slightly. “That’s horrible.”

The Doctor can only manage a sad smile. “I’ve had twenty years to cry over her, River,” he says. “And I can only imagine that she wouldn’t appreciate her old man being so stuck in the past.”

River shuts her eyes, sighing as she wipes at her cheeks again. “God, look at us. We make a right pair, don’t we?”

The Doctor’s lips quirk in a small smile, and he doesn’t answer. They sit in comfortable silence for a little while, finally feeling for once, like they truly know each other. 

*

River is curled in the armchair, a book on her lap and a blanket over her feet as she pushes her spectacles up her nose and concentrates on the words in front of her. The Doctor is muttering to himself, the occasional sound of chalk against the board filling the air as he writes. They’ve been sitting in comfortable silence for over an hour, and it’s almost time for lunch.

River snaps the book shut and grumbles in annoyance, glaring slightly at the Doctor. 

“Will you stop that?” she asks impatiently. 

“What?” asks the Doctor distractedly, and she can tell he isn’t paying attention to her. He scrawls even more funny symbols and equations on the board. 

“Stop thinking,” she snaps irritably. “It’s audible and I can’t focus on the book while you’re thinking so loudly.”

The Doctor stops writing then, his hand pausing in mid-motion before he turns around to stare at her incredulously. 

“Are you always this unreasonable?” he asks finally. 

“Doctor, I will crush every piece of chalk you own into fine dust with my bare hands - ” River starts, glaring pointedly now, when she’s interrupted by the lights dimming and an alarm blaring, red lights flashing all around them.

“Doctor?” River asks, looking around the room.

“River, be quiet,” he says, settling the chalk down on the table and hurrying over to her. “Someone’s broken in.”

“What do we do?” she whispers, and the Doctor is surprised at how well she’s handling it - there’s not even a trace of panic on her face, just concentration and determination, and he feels just a twinge of awe at her. “Doctor?”

“Right, uh - ” the Doctor scratches his head in contemplation for a moment before twirling around. “You can go in the safe room, River - press the panic button, it’ll alert UNIT - and I’ll stay out here.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asks doubtfully. “Have you even got any guns around the place?”

“I’ve no use for guns, River.” he says so seriously that she thinks he must be joking - before she realises he isn’t and her jaw drops.

“You don’t have a gun in your safe house? For God’s sake!” she whisper-shouts at him. “What, you were going to defend yourself with, your fucking chalk?”

“Why would I need a gun? It’s a safe house! It’s supposed to be safe!” he exclaims. “A gun is not safe, River.”

“If this safe house is so fucking safe then why do you need a safe room?” she shoots back, bending at the waist to retrieve her gun from her shoe. “Fuck’s sake. You go and press the panic button, Doctor, I’ll fend them off.”

“I won’t - ”

“Your chivalry is frankly quite useless right now,” she interrupts, cocking the gun and heading towards the door. “I swear to God, if you don’t disappear behind that door in three seconds, I’ll shoot you myself.”

“I hate you,” the Doctor mutters as he follows her instructions. 

“No you don’t,” she mutters back, holding her gun tight in her hand and treading carefully towards the doors. 

She tries to run through all the possible ways that this could go down - unfortunately, the possibility that this could turn grim for her is big. If the intruders really are members of the Vashta Nerada, they’ll be highly equipped - plus, they won’t be alone. River only has the one pistol - fully loaded, but she doubts six bullets will be enough to take out every one of them.

She keeps an eye out for the other doors, cursing the Doctor for making it so easy for them to charge in without warning - what are all these fucking doors for? Grumbling under her breath about shooting the old man if she makes it alive, she carefully reaches out for the door knob, twisting carefully and pushing it open slowly so that the noise won’t alert the intruders.

She doesn’t hear a sound from the living room, and she has to stop her rapidly beating heart from thumping out of her chest. She can’t afford to be distracted by old demons now - her safety and the Doctor’s rely on her. 

The corridor is dark, and River can’t see any of them - they must be good. They’re all silent, and that makes them even deadlier because she can’t anticipate any of them. Breathing quietly through her nose, she makes sure to step out onto the corridor, keeping her gun pointed in front of her. 

She sees a light flash across the room and her breath catches in her throat, gripping the gun tighter to give herself more security. She steps forward slowly, her body taut and ready for battle even as she tries her hardest not to let the piercing cold night get to her. She curses her bad luck - why did this have to happen now, during a power outage? Puffing out a cloud of air, she tries her best not to shake too much.

The light comes back - this time it stays on, not merely a flash anymore. River can tell that the intruder is using a flashlight to navigate their way through the area, and as she creeps further and further down the corridor, inching her way closer towards the intruder, she feels a chill creep up her spine.

She hears heavy snow boots thumping against the floor, the footsteps growing nearer and nearer, and River cocks the gun in her hand, ready to shoot.

“River! I heard a gun - is that you?” a familiar voice asks, and River lets out a relieved breath, lowering her weapon.

Vastra walks into sight, an eyebrow cocked and her long hair showered in bits of snow. 

“You were supposed to surrender all your weapons before our journey to the safe house,” she scolds, but River knows that her friend doesn’t really mean it. 

“If you really wanted me to surrender my gun, you could’ve made me do it when we arrived. But you didn’t,” she tucks the gun back into her boot and straightens up again, letting out another exhale. “Why did you set the alarm off? I thought there were actual intruders in the house! I even sent the Doctor to press the panic button.”

“My apologies,” Vastra says, smiling slightly at her. “How have the Doctor and you been getting on? I see there’s been a power outage. Are you sleeping in his room?”

River rolls her eyes, turning to lead her back into the bedroom. “It’s only temporary, until the power comes back on again. Or until you lot get the Vashta Nerada and we can finally get out of here.”

“So you are sleeping in his room?” Vastra asks innocently, and River turns to shoot a glare at her friends.

“He’s not the type to leave someone out in the cold for no reason,” River says. She gives a pointed glance at Vastra. “He’s not you.”

“I resent that,” Vastra says, as River smiles and pushes the door open. 

The Doctor looks terrified when they enter, sighing in relief when he catches sight of Vastra. 

“I told you to stay in the safe room!” River chastises.

“And leave all the action to you? I don’t think so, River,” the Doctor quips, before giving Vastra a warm smile. “Madame Vastra, I take it you bring news from UNIT?”

“Good news,” Vastra nods, smiling brightly at them. River has only seen Vastra this genuinely happy a handful of times in her life. “UNIT conducted a worldwide raid at every known location where the Vashta Nerada have been hiding. It wasn’t easy, and it took months of gathering information to find them, but we finally did it. Madame Kovarian has been captured, as well as a few members of an organisation known as ‘The Silence’.”

“It’s over?” River asks.

Vastra nods, and River feels a wave of emotion wash over her - her husband’s killer has finally been caught. She can go back to her old life now - she can leave all this behind and go back to the flat that she shared with him, teach at the school that they used to teach at, she can finally move on from everything.

River looks at the Doctor, a small smile on her lips as she thinks about how this must feel for him - not being in hiding anymore, no targets on his back. He’ll finally be free to work and live his life as he wishes without worrying about any danger coming to him or anyone he loves. 

The Doctor smiles back at her, a genuinely happy smile lighting his features. 

“I’ll help you get the power going,” Vastra says, looking between the both of them and sensing that they want some time alone with the news. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready to. We’ll need to sort some things out at UNIT before you can go back to your normal lives - don’t worry, Doctor, we’ve made some arrangements for you - but other than that, everything else seems to be sorted.”

River gives a nod of thanks and Vastra smiles back, turning to leave the two of them alone.

The Doctor looks at her, a small nostalgic smile pasted on his face, and she lets out a chuckle.

“Twenty years in here,” she says, looking around the room. “Will you miss it?”

“A little,” he says quietly. “I might come back for a holiday from time to time.” He crooks his head to the side, looking at her curiously. “What about you?”

River looks up at him in surprise. “What about me?” 

“What will you do now?” he asks. “Are you going back to teaching?”

“I - I always thought so,” River starts. “But now, I’m not so sure. I don’t think I’ll be able to do it without - without my husband.” She takes a deep breath, looking away. “I’m not sure I can even step a foot in my flat anymore.”

“You’ll be able to give him a proper burial now,” he says, and it’s clear that he’s trying his best to comfort her - something he must not be so used to - and she sends him an appreciative smile in return. “That must be something worthwhile.”

“Everything is worthwhile for John,” she says softly. “But it will be sad for a while, I think.” 

The Doctor nods understandably. “And just because we’re going back doesn’t mean we can’t see each other again.”

“No,” she agrees, the corners of her mouth turning upwards slightly. “No, of course it doesn’t.”

*

River has never seen the house so bare - furniture stripped, art taken down, the kitchen and the floors bare. It feels like a totally different space than the one she’s spent almost two months in. She has everything packed into a haversack, and both she and Vastra are waiting impatiently for the Doctor to finish with his things.

River huffs, blowing her curls out of her eyes as she exchanges a look with Vastra. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Vastra says. “I know you’re not likely to continue teaching at the university. If you’re thinking of turning to something else, UNIT is hiring new recruits now.”

“You want me to become a UNIT Agent?” River asks incredulously. “At this age?” 

Vastra shrugs. “Why not? You’re fit, you maintain good health and you’re very smart. UNIT could use someone like you.”

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “I might just continue writing for a while.”

“The Melody Malone series? I thought your publisher said he wouldn’t work with you anymore after you threatened him too many times?” 

 

River shrugs nonchalantly. “His loss. I’ve received better offers from other publishers.” 

“Well, in any case, I’m sure you’ll do well,” she replies, and River feels warmth in her chest for one of her closest friends. “I’ll wait outside. Tell the Doctor to hurry up, will you? The helicopter won’t wait for us forever.”

Vastra climbs up the trapdoor and disappears. 

Grumbling, River heads towards the Doctor’s bedroom to see what’s keeping him so long. She doesn’t quite know what this means for them - will they still be in touch after this? Will they even acknowledge whatever happened between them during this past month? Or will it be swept under the rug, never talked about again - something to look fondly back on and nothing more?

She pushes the door open and sees the Doctor standing in the middle of the room, looking all around him, as if saying goodbye to everything one last time. She leans against the door, watching as his eyes sweep across the now-clean chalkboard, the desk that used to stand in front of it, the empty bookshelves and the unlit fireplace, no comfy cushions in sight. 

“Are you planning to just stand there forever?” the Doctor asks, not even bothering to turn around and look at her. 

“Smartarse,” she mutters under her breath as she pushes herself off the door to join him.

“Took you long enough to come,” he says, still not looking at her. 

“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” she says honestly.

There’s a small pause where the Doctor looks at the ground, seemingly hesitating. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something, but seems to be thinking twice about whatever it is.

“You really should just spit it out, sweetie,” River says after a while. The Doctor gives her a questioning look and she lifts one shoulder. “I told you, it’s audible.”

“Will we still see each other?” he asks tentatively, finally turning to her. 

“Do you want to?” she asks in return.

“I’m not the one who just lost a husband, River.” he points out fairly, and River looks away. “And I don’t know how much - if I would be intruding on something - ”

“My husband isn’t here anymore,” River interrupts, startling the Doctor. “He’s gone where he can’t come back from and I’ve been spending the last few weeks accepting that fact.” She swallows, a lump in her throat appearing like it always does whenever she talks about John. “But having you around helped.”

The Doctor gives a small, comforting smile to her. She sighs again, the prospect of going back to her normal life without John haunting her, always looming at the back of her mind. After this, she’ll have to plan a funeral - she’ll have to pack all his things and pack her flat up, because she knows she can’t sleep in their bed without John there with her. 

“What are you doing after this?” River asks, realising that they never talked about it.

“Going back to UNIT,” he answers. “Back to work.”

“That’s it? No other plans?”

“I was thinking of getting a good cup of coffee and some Chinese food,” he says seriously. “But other than that, no.”

“You’re ridiculous,” River says, chuckling a little.

“River?” he says softly, tenderly, and she raises her head to look at him. The look in his eyes is much like the one he wore when they were cooking together - full of emotion, and she feels herself pulled towards him by some unknown force. “I know you’re not ready. Whenever you are, give me a call. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

She blinks at the unexpected show of emotion before nodding, and hesitantly pressing her lips to his for a chaste kiss. She thinks that there’ll still be a long road to go before she’s ready for anything that the Doctor wants or deserves, but with him, she doesn’t really mind. 

“It’s Melody,” she tells him quietly once she pulls away. “Melody Pond.”

“Dan Dangerous,” he says, and River is quick to stifle a laugh. “I legally changed it! It’s my name!”

“You sound like someone right out of a comic book, sweetie,” she laughs.

“That.. may have been where I got the idea,” the Doctor admits, not quite looking into her eyes. 

River laughs again, louder this time. The Doctor flushes even further. 

“You know, no one’s called me by my name in over twenty years.” he says wistfully. “I quite like being called ‘Doctor’, though.”

River smiles at him. “You’re secret’s safe with me, Dan.” 

The Doctor returns it. “Thank you, Melody.”

She holds her hand out to him, gesturing towards the exit and tugging him slightly. He takes her hand, feeling warm and excited for the first time in twenty years. No matter what happens between him and Melody, he knows that she’s someone that will always be near and dear to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know the ending was a little rushed but i hope you enjoyed it all the same. i’ve got a bunch more AUs planned for them, so i hope you guys will come back to read them! 
> 
> thank you so much for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments, and don’t forget to tell me what you liked about the chapter, or what time it is where you are, or even if it’s just to leave emojis and keyboard smashes, that’s totally fine too. love ya’ll!


End file.
